Cheating Darkness: Part III
by Roseblade22
Summary: Legolas already lost his wife-he'll do anything to protect his son Ithildor now, even hide his own past. The rebellious young half-elf yearns for the outside world, but what Ithildor doesn't know is that the outside world could yield more than he realized.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or places. I do own Ithildor, however. Not to be confused with Isildur.

((((((((((((((((((((((((CHEATING DARKNESS: PART III))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

AN: I'm trying a different approach to beginning chapters, as you will soon see. All chapters will begin with an entry in Ithildor's, Legolas's son's diary. I do this because it will help the time pass faster and to help the story tie in with Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, and also to help readers better understand Ithildor's character.

This story also takes place in the years 3018-3019, the same as the original Lord of the Rings. Don't worry, Tolkien's story will be untouched, because now, even though I listed Legolas as the main character, Ithildor's journey is the one we'll be following instead of his father's. BUT the journey will have a lot to do with Legolas, Eressa, and other aspects of Ithildor's hidden past. Ithildor is also about 41 years old at the time, making him a teenager in elf terms (I read somewhere that elves read physical maturity at the age of 50, but are not considered adults until the age of 100—in human terms, this can make Ithildor anywhere between 15 and 16 years old). I realize that this seems sort of impossible if you look at Orlando Bloom and try to imagine his character of Legolas having a teenage kid, but lets just forget that for a bit, eh?

I hope you guys enjoy this story. It's quite different than my others.

(((((((((((((((((((((o Chapter 1 o))))))))))))))))))))))))

_October 12, 3018_

_I hate my life. Today Ada _(AN: elvish for "Dad") _wouldn't let me go on a ride in the forest with Rothas and Earedol. He said it's too dangerous for me to go out without a royal guard. Ever since we were attacked and that Gollum creature escaped he's been so paranoid. No…he's been that way always. Never letting me do anything. I spoke to Grandfather, and he said it's only because Ada loves me. But if he does, than why can't he give me a chance to be on my own once in a while? I'm 41, for Valar's sake. He treats me as if I'm still an elfling._

_There's been word of war growing too. People say that Sauron has come back and will stop at nothing to control all of middle earth. Some even say that the One Ring has been found! I asked Ada if there is a war, would I be able to fight in it. He said no, I'm not yet old enough. Of course._

_I'm getting sick of being told that. I'm going to dinner now. Namarie'._

_Ithildor_

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Ithildor stared at his dessert as it was served to him. Honey cake—it had always been his favorite, ever since he was small. Looking up, he watched as the servants placed a slice of cake on his father's plate, and then his grandfather's. The King quickly picked up his fork and began eating…it seemed that the love for sweets ran in the family.

Ithildor looked at his father, who was seated across from him, at his grandfather's right side. He didn't seem to notice the food on his plate. He seemed deep in thought. As Ithildor took his own forkful of honey cake, he wondered what his father could be thinking about so seriously.

The King must have been thinking the same thing.

"Legolas…you haven't touched your dessert." He said quietly.

Legolas's head shot up, the King's statement catching him by surprise. "I'm sorry, father."

"What's on your mind?" The King asked.

Legolas didn't answer. He just shook his head.

Ithildor frowned and put down his fork. His father normally didn't act like this. "Ada?" He asked.

Legolas looked up and met the eyes of his son. Blue eyes looked into green eyes. Ithildor had green eyes so alike to those of his mother's. Finally the Prince spoke.

"A messenger from Rivendell arrived today." He confessed.

Ithildor smiled brightly. "Was it Elrohir? Or Elladan?"

"No, I'm sorry, Ithildor." Legolas answered. "But they had urgent news…and I'm…" Legolas stopped.

The King blinked, concerned. "What has happened?"

Legolas sighed. "It's been confirmed that the One Ring survives. It's being brought to Rivendell as we speak. I've been given orders from Lord Elrond that I'm to come to Rivendell by the 25th. There is to be a Council."

"Of what?" Ithildor asked curiously.

"Of all races. The fate of the Ring will be decided."

Ithildor's eyes went wide. "Can I come?" He asked.

"Absolutely not." Legolas answered. "You were not invited. This is a very private affair."

"But I'm you're son!" Ithildor argued. "Doesn't that count?"

"Ithildor, you should listen to your father." The King warned.

Ithildor looked at his grandfather, then at his Ada. They both handed him stern looks. He slumped back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Fine."

"Ithildor, under any other circumstances, I would bring you." Legolas said after a few minutes.

"You would not." Ithildor replied grumpily.

"I would…but I might not return for a long time. I cannot afford to take you with me." Legolas cocked his head as his son looked stubbornly away. "Do you understand me?"

"I do." Groaned the youth. "May I be excused?"

Legolas looked at the King and the King nodded. No sooner was the action complete did Ithildor rise up from the table and storm off towards his room. Legolas sighed and held his head in his hands.

"I'm a terrible father." He half-laughed.

"You were just as stubborn as he was when you were younger, and you know it, Legolas." The King answered.

"I know it."

"He is a growing youth, Legolas. He needs space. I've noticed that you haven't been letting him out alone anymore." The King cocked his head. "In fact, Ithildor told me so."

Legolas nodded grimly. "What else can I do? The spiders and wargs have become more numerous than ever…I don't want Ithildor without a guard accompanying him."

"I understand that." The King replied. He took a deep breath and paused. "Legolas, don't you think Ithildor is old enough to know?"

Legolas looked up, a glimmer in his eyes. A memory. "Know what?" He asked.

The King narrowed his eyes. "You know what about. About his mother. About you. About himself."

Legolas sat up and shook his head. "I can't tell him that now."

"Yes, I know." The King said. "But maybe you should think about explaining it to him when you return from Rivendell."

Legolas closed his eyes for a moment and thought of his son. "I know you are right, Father. I will think about it."

Legolas got up from the table.

"You haven't eaten you're cake yet." The King told him.

The Prince frowned. "I'm not hungry."

Legolas walked away from the table and his father. He walked until he found himself in a familiar, sad place. His wife's gravestone, a simple marble statue, stood as his feet. He knelt down and traced the letters of her name with his fingertips.

But the letters on the gravestone didn't spell out his wife's true name. It spelt out the name Vanuiel…not Eressa. Legolas tried to shed his guilt caused by telling his son years of lies about his mother, but not even the greatest pardon could calm his sorrowful soul. He wanted to believe he was protecting Ithildor in this way, but in all reality…he was also pitifully trying to protect himself from his own enormous grief.

"Oh, Eressa." He whispered. "I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do about anything…anymore."

Eressa's gravestone didn't offer Legolas anything except silence. He was used to that.

"I have a bad feeling about leaving, Eressa." He continued. "I fear there will be war. I fear there will be great tragedy, great bloodshed. Sauron has returned."

A cool burst of wind blew Legola's long blonde hair into his face. It had finally grown back to it's original length. He closed his eyes as he remembered back to the time when he had cut it. When Eressa was still alive…when they were happy.

"Why did you leave me?" He asked her. "I can't raise Ithildor on my own. He hates me. He hates that I don't let him follow me on my travels…he hates that I…" He paused and wiped a tear away. "Eressa…I hate myself too. I hate that I have to hide you from him. Ithildor should have known you."

Legolas sobbed. "I only do it to protect him…to keep him from making the same mistake I did."

He pressed his hand over the fake name carved into the marble. "Someday, I promise you, Eressa…your son will know you. And you're real name will be carved in a gravestone far more marvelous than this one and…"

Legolas broke down. He felt himself slump, all his body collapsing, except for his one hand that stayed tightly pressed to the words on the stone. He didn't know how long he sat there, crying like a child. He only hoped that his son would never see him like this.

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Upstairs in his room, Ithildor watched out the window as his father limply leaned against his mother's gravestone. Why was he crying? Ithildor watched him kneel in front of the grave nearly every night and speak quietly to his mother, but never did he see him cry. Ithildor backed away. It frightened him that his father so suddenly could become like this. Ithildor knew his father had heard the rumors of evil rising again in the east. Was the world really coming to an end this time? He had studied the history of Middle Earth in his schooling—all the wars between good and evil…good always seemed to overcome—what made it that way? And would it be the same this time around?

Ithildor backed into his bed and sat upon it, feeling the satin covers with his palms. He wondered if his father's tears were his fault.

_It's because of Mother…_he thought._ He'll never forgive me for being born._

Ever since he was a child, Ithildor was told that his mother had died giving birth to him. Ithildor had never been sure if his father had truly forgiven him.

A loud screech interrupted Ithildor's thoughts. He looked over to the corner of the room, where his pet hawk, Gilandor, was perched.

Ithildor raised his forearm. "Here, Gilandor."

The hawk screeched again and flew across the room, landing on Ithildor's arm. The young elf smiled at the bird as he stroked its soft feathers.

"I hope everything will be alright, Gilandor." He whispered. "Wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

The bird cocked its head to the side and stared at the young elf through it's round, golden eye. Ithildor sighed. "You wouldn't understand though, would you?" He asked.

The bird screeched once more and then began to preen its feathers.

Ithildor chuckled darkly and walked the bird back over to its perch. He began to carefully clasp a little leather band on the hawk's right leg, so he couldn't fly away into the night. Gilandor had a tendency to do that and not return until late the next morning. Ithildor stopped and paused just as he was about to fasten the last clasp around the bird's leg.

"No…maybe you do understand, Gilandor." He continued. He looked up at the bird. "Do you feel the way I do? Do you want to be let out, without any ties to bind you?"

Gilandor stopped preening and cocked his head to the side again, ruffling his dark feathers. Ithildor sighed and took off the band from around the bird's leg. He took him onto his arm again and approached the window.

"Well, if that's how you feel, you can go." He told the bird. "You'll fly away and be free."

Ithildor stuck his arm and the bird out the window and shook both of them lightly, to encourage the bird to fly off. But Gilandor just dug his talons into the fabric of Ithildor's tunic and held on. He let out a few loud screeches.

"Well, come on. Go!" Ithildor urged and shook his arm harder.

"Ithildor…what in Valar's name are you doing?" Came a voice.

Ithildor gasped and spun around, quickly pulling in his arm and his pet as he did. His grandfather Thranduil stood before him, a strange look on his face. "Grandfather…I didn't here you come in."

"Obviously." The King chuckled before becoming serious. "Just what were you doing?"

Ithildor felt it was best to tell the truth for now and not lie. "I thought Gilandor wasn't happy with being restrained at night. I thought he'd be happier free…I mean…" There was a long pause before the young elf continued. "…that's the way I feel."

Thranduil sighed and took the bird off of his grandchild's arm, stroking the soft feather's of its chest. "Well, clearly, Gilandor is happy staying with you."

Ithildor exhaled, and watched as the King silently walked the hawk over to its perch and fastened the band around it's leg. Then he approached him again.

Ithildor watched as his grandfather placed a gentle but strong hand on his shoulder. _I'm going to get one of those 'coming of age' lectures again…_He predicted.

"Ithildor…I think you and I had better have a talk." Thranduil said, as if on cue. "I know it's hard for you to believe, but I understand that you are feeling a bit trapped in your own skin right now. It's normal for an elf of your age."

"I'm not trapped in my own skin, Grandfather." Ithildor disagreed. "I'm comfortable with myself. I'm trapped in my own house…that's what."

"Your father told me that you have been asking more and more often to go out alone lately." Thranduil told.

"Yes…he doesn't let me do any of it though." Ithildor answered. "But I am almost an adult. Why doesn't he let me? I'm sick of it."

"You're father loves you, Ithildor, as do we all. We just want to keep you safe, and these are dangerous times." The King replied.

"I know, but I've heard that excuse a thousand times!" Ithildor said, his frustration growing. "All I'm asking is one chance to prove to Ada that I'm old enough to go out on my own. I won't get hurt. I promise."

The King offered his grandson a warm, reassuring smile. "You will only have to wait a little while longer, Ithildor…"

"I'm sick of waiting!" Ithildor shouted. "I've been waiting all my life!"

Ithidor suddenly realized he had raised his voice and backed up a step, out of his grandfather's grasp. "I'm sorry." He said meekly, turning away.

"Ithildor, you're father…I will talk to him." The King offered. "You know, he was once like you too."

"Did you let him do what he wanted?"

"Well, yes I did, but Legolas had Uncle Ithilion to look after him then. You're an only child." Thranduil added with a smile. "And because I let those two run amuck, you would not believe the trouble they caused."

Ithildor smiled meekly. "Like the story you told me about when Ada fell off his horse and broke his arm just an hour after he received it for his birthday?"

"Yes." The King laughed.

"Wasn't he a little younger than I am now when that happened?"

The King thought a moment. "I believe he had just turned 34, so yes."

"Tell me the story when Uncle Ithilion dared Ada to go and catch a spider hatchling." Ithildor said, cheering up completely now and sitting on his bed.

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "Ithildor, you must know that story better than I do by now."

"So, I still like hearing it." Ithildor said. "Tell me, Grandfather, please?"

"Alright…" The King gave in. "…but only if you promise to go right to sleep afterward. Remember, you have an archery lesson in the morning and you should be well rested."

Ithildor groaned. "I hate archery lessons."

The King frowned. "You have to take them. Don't you want to become as good of an archer as you father?"

Ithildor threw his hands up. "Ada is the best archer in all of Middle Earth. I can't be that good."

"You are also much younger than he is. It took Legolas many hard years to finally perfect his skill. It will take you just as long." The King explained.

"Yippee." The young elf replied enthusiastically. "Will you tell the story now?"

Thranduil smiled at his grandson's pleading face. He looked so alike to his father, yet his eyes were the striking green that he had inherited from his mother. His hair was put up half-way, as all the elven males did, and it was a slightly darker shade compared to Legolas's.

_Like his uncle…_Thranduil thought fondly of his eldest son. He opened his mouth and began the story.

((((((((o Flashback o))))))))))

"Well? Are you going to go our there? Or are you going to just loiter about like a measly old orc?" Ithilion laughed terribly at his own joke.

For his younger brother, Legolas, it was the worst torture. His elder sibling and his friends making fun of him, daring him to go alone into the forest at night to do the seemingly impossible: Catch a spider hatchling.

"If I catch one of them, I'll be the one laughing." He shot back after only a moment.

"That is, if you catch one _and_ bring it back here." Ithilion said playfully.

"I'll bring one back." Legolas promised. "And when I do, you'll be sorry."

Ragardol, a friend of Ithilion's that Legolas particularly disliked, snorted. "Oh, my heart clenches in fear!"

"Yes, spare us, Legolas!" Piped in another.

Legolas gave both his brother's friend a good, hard glare and then spun around in a huff. His feet stomped there way towards a clamp on the stable wall that held a torch. He carefully lifted the heavy torch and held it ahead of him, aiming at the black oblivion that was the forest.

"Watch me!" He cried defiantly as he made his way forward.

The young Prince heard more snickers behind him. "Just don't get eaten!" His brother's voice taunted one last time. Legolas tried to drown out the remark with his own thoughts.

_They'll be sorry when I come back…_he thought stubbornly. _And I do have a spider hatchling! That will show them._

As he walked deeper and deeper into the forest, Legolas daydreamed about catching one of the hatchlings. He figured it wouldn't be all that difficult a task, for newly-hatched spiders were only about the size of an adult elf's hand—but they could bite, and although the venom wouldn't be enough to kill or paralyze him, it would be painful. Legolas decided that taking off his cloak and springing upon one of the creatures would be the easiest way to seize one.

The little Prince's daydream continued. He'd bring the hatchling home and first show his brother and his friends, who then would have to take back all their cruel remarks and respect him for doing such a brave thing. And then he would show his Father, and perhaps he'd let Legolas keep the spider as a pet.

_At least until it grows too large..._the elf thought.

Legolas paused and looked around, the light from his torch flickering upon the dark leaves and branches of the trees around him. It was very quiet, and there was not even a sound from the many birds that lived in the woods.

_I must be getting closer._ He decided, and walked on.

After only a few more steps, the light from Legolas's torch shone against a large white ball that hung in the heavy branches of a tree not far away, directly in front of the lone elf. The ball, Legolas could see, was made from finely spun silk, and it was so large, that if Legolas stretched out his arms and legs as far as he could, he would still be able to fit inside it comfortably.

_This is it…_The young Prince thought. _This is the spider's nest._

The elf ducked into the foliage and put out his torch in the dirt. If there were any adult spiders nearby he could not let them know of his presence. Slowly, and on his hands and knees, Legolas crept towards the tree. His adrenaline was pumping into his veins, and he felt like he would be able to take on anything.

Legolas paused when he was directly underneath the nest. It hovered above him like a large white orb, and he looked up to wonder about it once more. Then he saw what he had missed: carcasses of animals hung close to the nest, strung up like gruesome holiday ornaments. Legolas glanced back down and found more bones lying in front of him.

The young Prince gulped. He would not become too frightened now, not after he had gone this far. He _would _catch a spider hatchling.

The young elf slowly stood up. He was very careful not to make a sound, for even the smallest disturbance could alert the spiders of his presence. He looked up once more, and realized that now he could actually reach out and graze the skin of the giant cocoon above his head. He briefly wondered how the tree could hold such an enormous weight.

Legolas suddenly heard a scuttling sound from inside the nest. He crouched down to the ground as quick as a bolt of lightning, and waited and watched. What immerged from the nest surprised him.

He saw the legs first. They peeked out and felt around, no larger than a twig. Then after them came a small head and body, with eight tiny eyes flashing.

_A hatchling! _Legolas thought, delighted.

The small creature paused for a moment, then quickly scurried from the entrance of the nest across a thread of silk. It paused again while balancing on the thread, and Legolas got a better looked at it. It was true, this spider was only as large as his Father's hand, and instead of an ugly festering black, it's color was more of a pale yellow. It had thousands of tiny hairs growing everywhere on it's body, and it's eyes darted about with a fierce curiosity.

The creature moved again, this time settling on one of the dangling carcasses above Legolas's head. It began to eat.

Legolas watched the thing for a moment or two before removing his cloak. If he made his move now, while the his prey was distracted, he could seize the little spider. And then his brother would have to hold his tongue the next time he tried to put down Legolas.

A smile formed on the Prince's face as he slowly stood up again. The carcass the hatchling was feeding off of was a large deer, and it hung low to the ground. Legolas rose up to his full height, and he was eye to eye with the hatchling.

The little spiderling caught sight of his movement and turned quickly to face him, it's front legs raised defensivly. It seemed confused, however, when it finally saw what was in front of it, and paused. Legolas grinned like a maniac at the creature.

"Got you!" He whispered defiantly as he flung his thick cloak upon the thing. The Prince bundled it up, and felt the thing struggling under the fabric and his fingers. He had it. The elf turned to run back towards the palace, but suddenly, something hit him in the back, knocking him forward…and into the spider's nest.

Legolas fell to the ground with a thud, his cloak rolling out from under his arm. He reached to close the gap in the fabric as quickly as he could, but with a yellow flash the hatchling—his catch—scurried out.

Legolas looked above his head, angrily wondering what could have caused him to fall. He saw the deer carcass the spiderling had been sitting on swaying back and forth.

_I did that…_the young elf realized. _When I threw my cloak it caused the carcass to swing and come back and hit me._

Another movement caught the Prince's eye. The Nest.

Like a festering wound about to burst, out of the nest exploded hundreds of tiny spiders, exactly alike to the one he had tried to catch. And they swarmed, covering the branches of the trees and the carcasses, spilling out onto the ground. And they came right towards him.

Poor Legolas did the only thing he could do. He screamed.

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"I wonder how long it will take before your brother comes back weeping, Ithilion." Ragardol thought aloud.

"He has been gone for some time." The elder Prince stated. There was a tremble in his voice.

"Oh, you aren't starting to worry about him, are you?" Ragardol laughed.

Meadros, the other young elf piped in. "Aw, that's touching."

The three youths had abandoned the ground and climbed a tall oak near the edge of the forest. There they said they would wait until young Prince Legolas would return. But now, after nearly an hour had passed, there was no sign of him. For Ithilion it was nerve-racking.

The older Prince said nothing in reply to his friends. He simply slipped down gracefully to the ground.

"Hey!" Cried Ragardol. "What are you doing?"

Ithilion looked up into the leaves with a stern stare. "I'm going to find him and bring him back." He said simply.

"Come on, Ithilion, I'm sure he's fine." Meadros suggested. "He's probably just hiding out in the woods, trying to make you worry."

"I don't think so." Said Ithilion quietly. He quickly fetched his horse from the nearby stables, then rejoined his friends by the tree. "I'm going now." He announced. "You can follow, if you like."

Ragardol snorted in amusement, and Meadros didn't move. Ithilion nodded. "Very well." He hopped on his horse and started off into the forest.

It was very quiet in the darkness under the trees. Ithilion rode his horse bareback, and his hands held fast a bow. An arrow was always cocked, ready to fire at his enemies. He began to wonder what sort of stupidity made him pressure Legolas to come out here without any weapons at all.

The wind blew back his dark blonde locks, and the Prince shivered. But the breeze brought something more to him other than cold. He heard a high-pitched voice float by, unlike that of any bird or animal. Ithilion's breath caught in his throat. Was it a scream?

With a stab of fear and a kick of his heels, Ithilion ordered his horse to trot forward faster. He prayed that he was headed in the same direction as Legolas had.

It was not long until he came upon it. It was huge, round, and white. The Spider's Nest. Ithilion was astounded by the sight of it, but soon became aware of the growing danger and held his bow aloft, scanning the ground and branches for any sign of either his brother or the spiders.

"Pst!" He whispered harshly, leaping off his horse and approaching the scene. "Pst! Legolas! Are you here!"

There was a strange, strangled sound to his left, and a tiny movement. Instantly Ithilion whipped his weapon around to face whatever creature had caused it. His eyes widened in terror.

"Legolas?" He asked, and he hopped off his horse and rushed foreward.

The body of his little brother hung upside-down from the branches of the tree, caked and covered in the silken stickiness of the spider's web. For a moment Ithilion feared the worst, but then he saw the bundle tremble once more, and another whimper escaped from it. Quickly he ripped open the webs covering Legolas's face so that he could breath.

The young elf coughed and gasped when he saw his brother standing in front of him. "Ithilion!" He whispered.

Instantly the elder Prince was angry. "Legolas, you fool!" He cried as quietly as he could muster. "How could you get yourself in such trouble?

"It's not all _my_ fault!" Retorted the younger, and the words hit Ithilion like a blow between the eyes. It was true…Legolas wouldn't have gotten into this had he and his friends not pressured him to.

"Be quiet." He ordered, lowing his voice to a whisper once again. "I'll get you out."

The older youth whipped out a knife from his belt and hastily began cutting away at the threads that held his brother aloft. Legolas continued whining.

"I'm going to tell Father," He threatened. "You won't be allowed out for weeks!"

"Hold still hush up!" Answered Ithilion. "You do that and you know as well as I do you'll be punished as well."

Legolas furrowed his brow and gave his brother an upside-down frown. "Hmph." He muttered stubbornly. "I'm still going to tell Fath—AHH!"

Ithilion's knife struck the last thread of silk that held his brother up, and the younger Prince fell in a heap on the ground. His small cry echoed through the trees, and Ithilion looked up and around in fear.

"Shh!" He scolded Legolas, who hopped up and began hastily tearing the remainder of the spider webs off his clothing. "Come on," The elder brother ordered.

He took his younger brother's hand and led him to the horse. Ithilion noticed that she was sweating and acting nervous. Again he turned his head and looked everywhere he could—in the tree branches, in the shadows—and he listened as hard as his elven ears could hear…but there was nothing.

He reached out a hand to his horse and whispered to her. "There, there…steady…" He offered softly, then looked at Legolas, who was still standing next to him, hunched over and obviously grumpy. "Legolas, get on." He said with a harder tone.

The little elf Prince gave another snort of disgust to his brother, but didn't hesitate to swing onto the back of the horse. For some reason, Legolas felt suddenly safer on top of the large animal, even though she herself seemed to be nervous.

Legolas glanced at Ithilion, who was peering thoughfully into the trees again. His eyes were wide. He turned back to Legolas. "We need to leave this place." He said hastily.

Hurriedly the eldest prince leapt on to the sweating horses back and took hold of the reins. The horse reared as he did this, almost causing Legolas to fall off the back and to the ground. But the younger elf's reflexes were fast and he was able to grip his brother around the waist before he tumbled.

"Ithilion…what it is?" He asked, feeling a little less safe now. "What's making her so frightened?"

Ithilion didn't answer at first, but he yanked on the reins and pulled the horse around. His eyes stayed fixated on a spot in the trees, just to the right of the hatchling's nest. Finally Ithilion saw what the horse was so nervous about.

"Legolas…" He said quietly. "…I think you disturbed more than just the spider hatchlings."

"What?" inquired the younger, who peered out from behind his brother's shoulder.

Suddenly, there was a loud shriek from within the black oblivion. It was a sound that neither of the brother's could identify, but they weren't sticking around to find out.

"Vista, noro lim!" Ithilion shouted, and the horse bucked and reared and then finally sped off and away. Both Legolas and Ithilion didn't dare look back.

((((((((((((o End Flashback o)))))))))))))))

By the time Thranduilwas almost done withthe tale, his grandson's eyes were sparkling.

"And to this day, Legolas still doesn't know what it was that he and your uncle heard in the forest that night." The King finished.

"Did you punish them?" Ithildor asked, even though he'd heard the answer a thousand times.

Thranduil laughed. "Actually, I didn't. I thought the whole situation was a great learning experience for both of them. Just a scolding and that's all they recieved. You know that I didn't punish them, Ithildor."

"Yes, but I like to pretend like I don't know." The younger elf replied. "I like hearing this story from you." The young Prince's eyes became downcast and angry. "But…but why doesn't Father let me have any 'learning experiences' like that?"

The King sighed and gave his grandson a gentle embrace, which the boy half-heartedly returned. "You will have your own adventures, Ithildor. You just have to wait until your time is up."

Ithildor let out an exasperated sigh, but didn't say anything in return. Thranduil looked out the window, where the fading sun and given way to night.

"It is late." He exclaimed. "Ithildor, you should be going to bed."

The youth looked at his grandfather and then at the window. Thranduil could see him open his mouth to argue, but then in a split second Ithildor snapped it back shut again.

"Yes, Grandfather." He said obediently.

The King got up and nodded in approval. "I will leave you then." He said, warm and kind as always. He offered his grandson a smile and turned for the door, but then paused.

"Ithildor…remember that it's not always the things you do, but the things you feel, that make you great."

Ithildor knotted his eyebrows for a moment but then nodded. "Yes, Grandfather. Thank you." He said politely, and then watched as the King turned back towards the door, opened it, and disappeared.

Ithildor's frown was quick to return. He hadn't exactly understood what his grandfather had meant by that last comment.

_At least…_the young elf thought as he flopped limply onto his bed…_I will have the night to think about it._

A small squawk from across the room caused Ithildor to turn his attention. He looked at his pet hawk and smiled.

"Good night, Gilandor. Sleep will, mellon nin."

((((((((((((((((o Personal thing o)))))))))))))))))))

WHEW! That was a long chapter! I hope you enjoyed it, and especially the flash-back. I wanted to give you all a taste of Ithilion and Legolas in their youth, before what happened in the previous stories. Thank you all for reviewing Cheating Darkness II and I hope you continue supporting me!

PS: I can't wait until after March 15 because after that date, I'll have nothing to do except take my college placement tests, prom, and graduation! So bear with me until then, if I happen to update more slowly! Right now I'm preparing for both Solo Ensomble and my college Music auditions, so I'm a little busy. But thank god for Saturday, cuz I finally got this done! Yippee!

Luv ya all!

**Reader Responses!**

**Legolasgurl88: **Thank you very much! And yeah, this story is the last one. Number three in my trilogy! Yay! I expect this story to be just as long or longer than the last one. Something like that…I seriously doubt it will be as long as the first installment though! LOL. Thanks for reviewing! Love you!

**arkel83:** I think you've reviewed before…you're screen name seems familiar. But hey! Thanks for reviewing anyway! I'm flattered by your comments and hope you will like this story as much as my others. I look forward to writing this story as much as the other, and I hope you look forward to writing and reviewing! Thanks ever so much!

**LegyLuva: **I know it's so sad…I'm so mean to Legolas…kill his brother, his best friend, now his wife. You are so right. I'm mean. But that's the way the story's gotta be! Thanks a bunch for reviewing for like, forever, LegyLuva! I certainly hope you get the time to read Part III! Thanks again!

**Andmetwen:** Well, first of all, NO, Legolas isn't going to die! I could never bare to kill him, just everone around him. (Eesh…that was awfully cruel of me, wasn't it?) But to answer your question, Ithildor is more elvish than human. But you must know that it's because he doesn't know that his mom was mortal that he's stayed that way. He's kind of like Arwen…he was born with both human and elf in him, but he was raised and appears as an elf…but if he chooses, he can become human. The catch is that Legolas hid Ithildor's past, including the fact that his mother was a human from him…so Ithildor really has no clue. It's hard to explain, I hope I didn't confuse you. But Ithildor will uncover some pretty earth-shaking secrets as the story goes on…stay tuned, and thanks!

**frodofreak88:** OH, the story can continue in a million ways! As I said before in this chapter, this story will follow Ithildor's journey more than his parents (even Legolas—sorry Legolas lovers). But maybe I should add this small snippet: What Ithildor discovers during his little adventures will have to do a lot with his parents, and you'll find out we haven't seen the last of a lot of characters from the first story! Thank you very much and I look forward to hearing from you again!

**Anonymous: (the one that's an emotional 12-year-old): **Wow…I've never seen someone so passionate about a story. I guess I can understand you not wanting to read a sad story…I personally favor happy endings myself…but the point is that Eressa had to die in order for _this_ story to continue. I'm not mad at you, and I'm not gonna call you names. (Heck, I was twelve once too, and I was equally emotional, if not more—so I can relate.) But if you don't like the fact that Eressa died in my story it than you don't have to continue reading it, but thanks anyway for your reviews!

PS: I don't know if this will make up for the loss of Eressa, but here's another spoiler that I think will interest you in particular: One of the new characters I'm creating is about your age (if not a little older) and will play a very large role in the story! And I promise I won't kill them. There is absolutely no character death in this story! Rejoice happy ending fans!

**Nirobie: **Thanks a bunch! I'm glad you liked the last chaper even though it made you sad! Thank for being a great reviewer, Nirobie! I look forward to writing some more and hearing more from you! Thanks again!

**The Noble Platypus: **EEP! dodges thrown objects PLEASE DON'T HURT ME! Eressa had to die! It was necessary! It had to be done! LOL.Thank you for all you're unending compliments, Platy! I'm glad you thought the overall story was great, even though you thought Eressa's death 'sucked'. LOL. I hope you'll like this story as much as the others…but I must warn you…you're going to be reading more about Ithildor than anybody else…but I promise it will be good! In fact, I think out of the whole trilogy, this story will be my favorite! I hope you'll like it too!

Oh…and by the way, don't worry about my fingers. They've healed just right! I can even play piano again. It's my elbow that really still bothers me. When I fell I split it open, even the muscle, and it still hurts too much for me to lean on! Argh! But thanks for your concern, and I hope to hear from you again soon! Love you girl!

**darkangelgep:** GAH! DON'T KILL ME! Have mercy on a poor fanfic writer…I had it in mind for Eressa to die from the beginning. Sounds terrible of me to have her and Legolas go through all that just to have her die, but you yourself said it was nicely done, eh? She had to die, or otherwise I couldn't write this story! Personally, I think this story will be my favorite! I hope you will like it too! Thanks for the review (and the forgiveness!) Love you!

**Kitsune Kida: **Hey! Nice to hear from you again! Thanks for your compliments. I'm flattered to hear that you thought it was awesome. Thanks a lot. I will continue with the next story…and I hope you liked this chapter and I hope you will like the rest of it! Thanks again!

**Deana: **Er…yeah…I killed Eressa. I know it was mean (and apparently unexpected), but it was also necessary for this story to be written. This story will be about Ithildor more than anyone else. But I hope you continue reading and reviewing, and I'm very grateful for all your support! Thanks ever so much, Deana! I love you! (But I'm sorry to make you cry…here, have a tissue.) LOL. Thanks again!

**MY LAST STORY RECEIVED 230 REVEIWS! THANKS GUYS! I LOVE YOU!**


	2. Chapter 2: Another Goodbye

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Lord of the Rings. But original characters I do own! So you can't steal them. hugs Ithildor Mine!

(((((((((((((((((o Chapter 2 o)))))))))))))))))))

October 23, 3018 

_Ada's going to leaving for Rivendell tomorrow. I wish I could go. I like Rivendell, and besides, going there is my only chance to get out of this place. I would ask him again if I could accompany him, but he would probably just get cross with me for questioning him. _

_I suppose Grandfather wasn't wrong about we woodelves living in dangerous times, however. A few days ago an elfling was nearly caught and killed by a spider, just outside the boundaries of the city. The spiders have never been that daring before, at least not since I remember. Still, I have a lot more experience than an elfling, so I don't understand why I'm kept a prisoner in my own household. Yesterday the only time I was outside was for archery lessons. If this continues, I'm afraid that I'll actually begin to enjoy archery lessons! I have to get out of here._

_Ithildor_

o)))))))))))))))))))

SCHWOOM! 

Ithildor's arrow flew cleanly threw the air, howling towards it's target. The shaft struck the outside circle and stuck. Ithildor threw down his bow in disgust.

"I'll never hit the center!" He muttered under his breath. "Never!"

His father stood beside him and smiled. "Never say never, Ithildor. Learning to properly and accurately shoot a bow is hard work."

The younger elf shot his father an icy look. "Easy for you to say." He spat, clearly not comforted.

Legolas sighed and shook his head. Ithildor had been reluctant and cold to him ever since he'd learned that his father would be leaving. He didn't know how to get through to the boy. Just because he was leaving for a few days didn't mean he intended on disappearing forever.

"Ithildor…" Legolas pleaded, turning to face his fuming son. "…can't you give me a smile for once? I haven't seen one all day."

The frown that seemed permanently etched on Ithildor's face faded a little, giving way to a thoughtful, sad expression. But he didn't smile.

Legolas stepped forward and took his son into his arms, gently embracing him. The younger elf didn't respond at first, but then crept his arms around his father, and Ithildor rested his head on Legolas's shoulder. Legolas smiled, comforted by the fact that at least his son would still bare his touch, but then pulled away, playfully grinning.

"You may hug me, but I what I asked for was a smile." He jested lightly.

Ithildor's eyebrows lowered in a dangerous glare, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

"There it is!" Legolas shouted, watching with gleeful laughter as his son struggled against the smile forming on his face. Finally the youth gave up and laughed along, even though he was feeling rather irritated.

"Stop laughing at me!" He said, trying once more to cover up his obvious smile with another cold frown. It didn't work, and the boy only laughed harder. "Ada—HEY!"

Legolas grabbed Ithildor by the arm and embraced him once more, perhaps pulling his son a little to hard. The two elves bounced off each other and practically fell into the dirt together.

"You're strange, Ada." Ithildor giggled as he reached down to grasp his bow.

Legolas nodded. "All elven princes say that about their fathers, I'm sure."

"Whatever you say." Ithildor said, turning halfway round. He looked about them, bored. "Can we go to dinner now, Ada?" He asked.

Legolas thought about his son's request and then raised an eyebrow. "Are you forgetting something, son?"

The youth whipped around his head, confused. "What?" He asked.

Legolas chuckled once more and cocked his head in the direction of the target. Ithildor's last arrow still protruding from it's outmost circle. Ithildor stared at the arrow for a moment, and that icy frown appeared again, a reminder to the young elf of his failures.

Legolas immediately realized his mistake. He quickly and quietly slipped a reassuring arm around Ithildor's shoulders.

"It's alright, Ithildor." He offered the silent youth. "You know, perhaps if you do not find your calling in archery, you will find it something else."

The young elf snorted and shook his head. "Like what? Every single elf in Mirkwood is an expert archer. Every elf knows how to hit the bullseye except me." He fumed.

Legolas sighed. "That isn't true, and you know it, Ithildor. Why, you may not be the very best at arching, but you excel in hand-to-hand combat. And your abilities with animals are seemingly endless!"

"Stop…" Ithildor said softly, a smile creeping up his face again, embarrassed by his father's gushing.

But Legolas continued. "It's true…you trained your hawk, Gilandor, all by yourself, didn't you?"

"Yes…" Ithildor answered reluctantly, but still smiling.

"And your horse?" Legolas added.

The youth sighed, exasperated. "I trained Athenos…I understand your point, Father. I do. Thank you."

"You truly understand?" Legolas asked. "You now know that you have no need to pressure yourself? You have all your life to perfect such skills as this." The elder elf gestured to the bow in his sons's hands.

"I understand." Ithildor said very firmly.

Legolas nodded, pleased. He pointed to the arrow still stuck in the target many meters away. "Now, fetch that arrow and we'll retire."

"Yes, Ada." Ithildor said, and jogged over to target, pulling out the arrow. When he returned he offered his father a half-smile.

"Alright," The eldest prince said. "Let's be off."

o)))))))))))))))))))

The evening quickly progressed into night, which in turn transformed to morning. It was all too soon that Legolas had awaken and found himself preparing to leave for Rivendell.

The Prince shuffled to and fro, bunching whatever he could into his bag. He did not know how long he would be staying in Rivendell, so he wasn't quite sure on how to prepare for it. He went back to his dresser and pulled out another tunic, stuffing it into his sack. He then decided he wouldn't suffer much if he brought another jerkin as well, and turned back.

Legolas paused as his eyes rested on something glittering lightly on top of the polished wood. It was his precious set of white knives. Legolas approached and carefully slipped his hand around the hilt of one, his skin barely grazing the smooth ivory. But he couldn't seem to pick it up.

_Then again, if I'm to bring another jerkin, I might as well suffer the weight of these as well…_He thought.

With that, the elf slipped the knifes into their sheaths and fastened them to his quiver, so that they would be close at hand whenever he might need them.

Legolas looked up once more, into the bright sunlight shining through his bedroom window. He could hear the Mirkwood birds singing. Slowly he walked towards the outside, leaning his head out into the cooling breeze.

Suddenly there was a squawk. For a moment Legolas's sharp sense of hearing failed him, and he looked around, unsure of where the sound came from. He only had a few instants before he saw a mess of feathers flying rapidly towards him.

There was another shriek in the air as the brown feather ball rocketed past the surprised Prince, almost causing him to throw himself to the floor. The large bird circled the room once and, unable to find a way out, finally landed with another squawk on Legolas's sack, on top of his bed.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Gilandor, you naughty bird!" He scolded playfully. "Where is your young master?"

The bird offered no reply but began to preen it's feathers. Legolas frowned and stepped forward.

"Now, now." He said. "Get off of my things. I have to pack to leave."

The elf reached his hand toward the bag the hawk was sitting on, but Gilandor sprang up at once and fiercely snapped at it. Fortunately, Legolas's reflexes were quick, and he whipped his hand away.

"Gilandor!" He said firmly, now not so happy with the bird's intrusion. "You must let me get my things packed!"

Legolas tried one more time to slip the sack out from under the bird, but Gilandor was terribly touchy, and whenever the Prince so much as lifted his hand, he shrieked and tried to bite him. Finally Legolas was fed up. He threw open the door to his room and stuck his blond head out into the hall.

"ITHILDOR!" He bellowed in a fatherly fashion. "COME AT ONCE AND REMOVE YOUR PET FROM MY BEDROOM!"

It didn't take long for there to be a distant reply. "Father?" Came a voice, and Ithildor appeared down the hall. He hurried towards where his father stood, fidgeting impatiently.

"What is it?" He asked.

The elder elf stomped his foot and pointed into the room. "Your pet hawk is harassing me when I should be hurrying to pack." He explained.

A look of confusion crossed Ithildor's face and he looked into the chamber. Gilandor was now tearing at the fabric of the bag with his beak. Ithildor gasped and rushed in.

"Gilandor, no!" He cried, and stuck his hand out for the bird to perch on.

Legolas watched with awe as the bird didn't fuss a bit and hopped onto his son's arm. "Goodness…" He said, retrieving his bag and closing it. "Thank you, my son."

Ithildor looked at his pet and stroked the hawks soft feathers. He then glanced at his father. "Ada…" He began. "Are you going to be gone very long?"

Legolas sighed and opened his mouth to answer, but before any sound could come out, a royal guard poked his head into the open door.

"My Lord Legolas?" He said politely. "Your escort to Rivendell is ready."

Legolas blinked and scrambled to grab all his things. "So soon? I must be getting old." He said, suddenly hurrying off.

"Hey—ADA!" Came Ithildor's shout, and Legolas turned.

"What is it, Ithildor?" He asked.

Ithildor offered him a grumpy look. "You are just going to leave without saying goodbye?"

Legolas sighed. "Oh…" He approached his son to embrace him, but once again Gilandor snapped at him once he was close.

"Hey, Gilandor, be nice." Ithildor ordered the bird, and the animal slowly moved up the younger Prince's arm to his shoulder.

Legolas reached for Ithildor very carefully, keeping a sharp eye on the hawk, but Gilandor didn't make a move this time. The two elves embraced for a moment.

"Goodbye, Ithildor." He said with a smile. "I hope you will fair well while I'm gone." He pulled away and slung his bag onto his shoulder. "Do tell your Grandfather goodbye for me, will you?"

Ithildor blinked. "You haven't said goodbye to him yet? Shouldn't you do that yourself?"

Legolas chuckled. "My dear son, your Grandfather will not be hurt if you do it for me. Trust me. I must be on my way."

Ithildor frowned, the same frown that Legolas had seen too much. He shook his head in disapproval.

"Oh, Ithildor…" He said, leaning down once more, lightly kissing his son's forehead. "…I will not be gone forever. That I promise. Goodbye, my son."

The young elf nodded slowly and watched as his father stepped further away. "Goodbye." He muttered softly.

The eldest Prince nodded, smiled, and hurriedly left the room, escorted by his guard. Ithildor looked to the marble flooring. He waited until the footsteps of the other elves disappeared down the stone halls and then followed his father's path out of the room, and then turned and promptly went to his chambers.

((((((((((((((((((o Personal thing o))))))))))))))))))))))

Sorry for the wait! I had a district singing competition and I was practicing like crazy! But it paid off—I'm progressing to the state level for 5 things! My auditions for college are this Saturday, and my choir concert is on the 15th, and then I'll have nothing to do (nothing except work on this story—of course!) for like, a month! Hallelujah! Anyway, hope you all enjoyed!

A note to Tanja: I realize that I haven't finished The Well of Souls yet. I delayed it because I couldn't figure out a good ending to it. I have one in mind now, I just need the time to get it all typed up. I'll have hopefully finished the story by April! Thanks for mentioning it!


	3. Chapter 3: Escape into Darkness

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nada. Nine.

(((((((((((((o Chapter 3 o)))))))))))))

October 26, 3018 

_Valar help me. Ada's only been gone for two days and already the situation back here has gone from bad to worst. There have been no more spider attacks, but Grandfather still refuses to let me out into the forest without a royal guard to watch me. It's terrible. It's like being an elfling again in the nursery. My friends have seemingly abandoned me, since they are allowed to roam free. Well, maybe that's not true. They haven't abandoned me. Maybe it's more like I've been forced to abandon them. I won't take this for much longer. I'm no longer a child, and if I have to prove it, I will._

_Ithildor_

o)))))))))))))))))

"Any word from your father in Rivendell, Ithildor?" Rothas asked.

Ithildor scowled slightly and continued walking. His feet tapped lightly on the marble flooring. He was relieved that at least one of his friends had decided to visit him. Unfortunately, staying inside the palace was the only thing they were permitted to do at the moment.

"I haven't heard from him yet." He said harshly. "And frankly I wouldn't care if I did."

Rothas's eyes widened. "Those are strong words, Ithildor."

"I know." Ithildor looked at him, not ashamed. "But I mean every breath of it."

Rothas didn't reply. He looked at the floor and made an uncomfortable sound in the back of his throat. Ithildor knew that meant that Rothas was thinking something but not saying it.

"What is it?" He asked, slightly annoyed.

Rothas cleared his throat. "Well…I just think that you should know that you shouldn't be angry at your father for trying to protect you."

Ithildor rolled his eyes. "Now you will start preaching to me?" He shook his head and stopped. "No, you don't understand…it's not that I don't want to be protected. I just don't want to be…to be…"

"Imprisoned?" Offered the other elf.

"Exactly." Ithildor said. "Imprisoned. And that's what they insist on doing to me."

Rothas furrowed his eyebrows. "Sometimes protection requires imprisonment."

"Not of this sort." Retorted the young Prince. "I can't stand it. I need to be outside more than a few hours each day, just like any other elf, and without some royal guard staring me down."

"They are following you're Grandfather's orders." Rothas told him. "Don't get cross with them."

"Sorry." Ithildor apologized. He'd forgotten—Rothas's older brother and father were both royal guards.

"I just…I can't stand this place anymore." Ithildor explained to his friend. "They say that the woodelves are content with just the trees…but I'm not like that. There's something different about me. I don't know what it is."

Rothas cocked his head, confused. "What do you mean, different? You enjoy the trees just like the rest of us."

Ithildor racked his brain for an answer. "I do enjoy trees…but I…I dream of seeing so much more…mountains and plains and other lands and…and other people."

"Humph." Rothas scowled. "Other people? What sort of people would you want to see? Dwarves?" He laughed.

Ithildor shot him a poisonous look. "No. Well…maybe. After all, no elf has seen the inside of the mountain hollows since the dark days." The young elf shook his head, exasperated. "Even a dwarf-hall would be more exciting than these!"

The Prince moved over to the marble wall and leaned against it heavily. "It is almost too much to bare…to be trapped like this."

Rothas smiled sadly. "You are a Prince of Mirkwood. You can bare it."

"Don't bet your life on it." Ithildor retorted.

"This situation is bound to blow over in a few days anyway. I think your grandfather will soften up." Rothas said encouragingly.

Ithildor huffed. "I wouldn't bet on that either."

Both elves were silent for a few moments. The silence seemed to drag on forever. Then Rothas spoke.

"I must return home." He said. "My father will be furious with me if I return after dark."

"Alright." Ithildor said gloomily. "I'll see you later."

Rothas turned to leave, but then stepped back. "See?" He offered. "My family is strict with me too."

A smile slowly crept on the Ithildor's mouth. "Thanks." He whispered. "Bye."

Rothas moved away. "Goodnight."

Ithildor stood where he was until his friend's footsteps could no longer be heard. Then the moved on down the hall. He paused when he passed the door to the palace library. The young elf pondered a bit, then opened the door and stepped in.

Ithildor liked the library. It was rare when he wasn't the only elf in it, and he enjoyed the quiet. He strolled over to the bookcases and ran his hands over the bindings of the old books. Records of the Mirkwood scribes, the royal family scrolls, and storybooks sat before him, each crying out to be read. Ithildor removed his hands and sighed.

"Why am I in here?" He wondered out loud. Turning back towards the door, something caught his eye.

Pivoting back, Ithildor stared in disbelief. A map lay rolled out across one of the desks. He quickly approached the object, appalled that someone was careless enough to take it out and then fail to put it away again. Then he took a look at the map.

It was a large map of Middle Earth itself. Ithildor gazed at it, his eyes being drawn back and forth between the names of lands and places he'd never known. The Shire, Amyn Muil, The Dead Marshes, and Rivendell, where his father was. Of course, Ithildor had read about all these mysterious lands in his studies, but his mind was reeling with the prospect of actually visiting them.

_I'll never get the chance…_He thought, angered. _I'll never get to see any of these places._

Suddenly, the door to the hallway burst open. Ithildor jumped, startled, and turned towards it. Stepping through the opening was a handmaid who looked very relieved to see him.

"Thank the Valar I found you, my Lord Ithildor!" She gasped, tiredly bowing to him. "Your grandfather has requested your presence in the grand hall immediately."

"What is the problem?" Ithildor asked, frowning.

The elf-maid shook her head. "The King did not inform me of any problem. Only to find you and be quick about it."

Ithildor smiled at the panting girl. "Well I can see that you've been looking for me for a while."

"Yes, my Lord." She replied.

Ithildor started for the door. "I'd best get going then." Then he paused, looking over his shoulder. "Would you be so kind as to put that map back in it's proper place?" He asked.

The hand-maid nodded eagerly. "Yes, sir."

"Thank you." Ithildor replied automatically. He walked through the door and made his way to the grand hall.

When he arrived there, Ithildor immediately noticed the change in the air. There was a sudden feeling of wariness as he approached a large crowd of elves, mostly friends of his father and the King, gathering around the throne. His grandfather was trying to fend them off with reassuring words.

"What is the news from Rivendell, my Lord?" One of the elves asked.

"How is Lord Legolas?" Another chimed in.

The King stood up. "Silence, all of you! Questions will be answered as soon as my grandson arrives."

Ithildor stood on his tip-toes to be seen. He still had a few inches to grow before he turned fifty and would be considered adult. "I'm here, Grandfather!" He called.

King Thranduil's head turned in his direction. "Ah! Ithildor, come up here."

Ithildor frowned as the other elves moved aside to let him through. He stood in front of the King, who sat down comfortably on his throne again.

"What's the matter and what does it have to do with my father? Is he alright?" He asked outright—before Thranduil could say anything.

The King sighed. "You father is fine, Ithildor. He arrived safely in Rivendell a day and a half ago."

"Then why have we all been called here with such haste?" Asked another one of the crowd.

The King's face darkened. "Lord Elrond held a Council yesterday. It's been confirmed that the Ring of Sauron has been found."

There was a collective gasp from the group of elves, and then a soft chorus of whispers. Thranduil hushed them with a wave of his strong hand.

"The Council assembled a Fellowship to aid the Ringbearer in a quest to take the Ring to Mount Doom and destroy it." He continued, his face growing more troubled. "I've just received word that Prince Legolas is among those who will take part in the Fellowship."

Suddenly the room became silent. The breaths of all the elves caught in their throats, and they were unable to utter even the slightest word. Ithildor was the first to recover from this stuper.

"What!" He cried, clearly upset. "They can't force him to do that! He's my father! We need him here!"

"Ithildor, calm yourself!" The King answered. "Your father wasn't forced to take part in this quest."

The young prince's eyes widened in disbelief. "He _chose_ to do this?" He asked. The King nodded. "How could he!"

"Ithildor…" Thranduil urged, but the boy only became more upset.

"NO! How could he abandon his people? How could he be so stupid!" The youth screamed, but suddenly his grandfather stood up.

"Ithildor, I order you to be quiet." He said very sternly, but Ithildor barely flinched.

"YOU know that trying to battle Sauron is like giving into death itself!" Ithildor continued, glaring fiercely at the King. "I know that it is! I've studied it! Gil-Galad and your own father fell in the last battle for the Ring—WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THAT MY FATHER WILL NOT?"

Ithildor silenced then, and a single tear of anger and fear and frustration escaped from his eye. It rolled down his cheek and then dropped off, but Ithildor was already gone before it could hit the floor or anyone in the room could stop him. The young elf ran as fast as his legs could carry him to his room, where he collapsed into his bed even as it was being made by some elf-maids.

"My Lord Ithildor?" One of them asked, concerned. The Prince was a ball of tears. "Are you alright?"

Ithildor buried his face into the mattress. "No." He answered, his voice shaking. "Leave me."

The two maidens exchanged confused and worried glances, but then slowly backed out of the room. They paused by the door, but then seeing that they could do nothing for the upset prince, left, closing the door tightly behind him.

Ithildor wept for a very long time before he could finally get his thoughts straight.

_How could Ada do this to me? He said he didn't know when he would return…but now he might not return at all! _Fear shook Ithildor, but it was mostly anger that fueled his tears.

"WHY?" He screamed into the pillows. The sound was ripped from his mouth, and Ithildor felt that for a moment he died. He lay on the bed not alive, but a ghost. He'd already lost his mother…how could his father be so foolish as to join a quest that so surely guaranteed death? How could he abandon him, his own son, to face a life alone?

Ithildor got up and went to his desk. He opened the drawers and pulled out his diary and slammed the drawers shut again. He flipped open to the first blank page and began to write furiously:

Ada has abandoned me. He's gone on a stupid quest to destroy the stupid Ring of Power. Damn him. Damn Sauron. Damn everything! How could he do this?

Ithildor ceased writing, breathing heavily and wiping away his tears, trying to keep them from falling on the page and smearing the ink. He shut his eyes tightly and tried to calm himself. He opened them and began to write again, his hand shaking:

I won't be abandoned and stand for it. I won be imprisoned and tortured like this anymore. Not when my family will so easily leave me. Why should I not leave them?

Again Ithildor paused. Leave? The concept was both forbidden and intriguing to him. He had never thought to run away before. The wheels in his mind began to twist. Why _not _run away? That way he could do as he liked without his father or grandfather forbidding him to do it. He could be his own elf. He could hunt in the forest, feed himself on his own, travel to distant lands he'd only dreamed of visiting before.

By the time Ithildor's thoughts had passed he'd already made up his mind. He turned back to his diary and scrawled a few more words:

I will leave. I'll leave tonight, and I'll ride fast on horseback so that I'll be out of Mirkwood by nightfall. Then I'll be free. If Ada thinks he can abandon me, then I'll be the first to abandon him, and the rest of this horrid place. Like father, like son.

Ithildor slammed his writing tool down, and ran his hands through his ash-blonde hair. His tears had somehow ceased during the last few minutes of writing.

A soft squawk drew his attention to the side of the room. Gilandor, his hawk, stared at him.

"Don't look at me like that, Gilandor." Ithildor warned. The bird cocked his head in curiousity.

Ithildor got up from the desk and rushed to his dresser, pulling out clothes and blankets and whatever he could think off. He raced around the room as if he was expecting someone to come in and stop him. But no one did. Only Gilandor sat on his perch, watching intently with his golden eyes.

Ithildor pulled out a large sack from under his bed and began stuffing his clothes into it. The bird in the corner hopped along his perch and then began to screech.

"Shh! Quiet Gilandor!" Ithildor scolded, turning to the hawk. The creature silenced but continued hopping frantically around on his perch.

Ithildor approached the nervous bird, whispering. "If you think I'm going to leave you behind, you're wrong. You're coming with me, and we'll have great adventures." He said.

The hawk calmed a little, and stood still once more. Ithildor continued talking to the bird.

"Besides," He said. "I'll need you to help me hunt for food. We can't rely on my skill with a bow if we're to survive on our own."

Ithildor turned back to his things. He shoved a few more garments into the sack and then closed it. He then rushed over to the corner of his room where his bow and quiver were leaning against the wall. He grabbed them and slung them over his back, then headed to the other side of his room, where above his dresser hung his sword. He lifted it from it's shelf with care, for it was the weapon most dear to him. He set the sword along with his bow and quiver alongside the sack on his bed.

Standing back, Ithildor wondered what else he would need. He'd never had any experience with travel before, so he was stumped.

_I'll need…something else. I know I need something else…_He thought, concentrating hard. It finally came to him. _Oh! Of course!_

Ithildor turned back to the desk, where his diary still lay open. _I would be a fool to forget this. _He thought. Hastily he stuffed it in his pack, along with supplies to write in it.

_There. _The young prince thought, satisfied. _That should do it. I'm ready to be on my way._

Now came the challenge of escaping without being seen. Ithildor looked warily at the doorway. Surely if he tried to get out that way someone would see him. And if they saw him with his pet hawk and a huge sack full of cloths and other things, they would definitely suspect him. Plus he'd never be able to convince the palace guards to let him through the gate.

_I have to find another way…_He thought, turning towards the window. _A more direct way…_

Ithildor looked out his window, and he could see that the twilight was just beginning to surrender to the overwhelming weight of darkness. The moon flickered through the moving branches of trees blown in the wind. Ithildor grinned, and went at once to open the window.

He was greeted with a cold blast of night wind, and suddenly Gilandor began to screech again. The bird thought that he was going to be let out.

"Shh! Gilandor, shh!" Hushed the prince, rushing to silence the bird. Gilandor obeyed, but stared at Ithildor expectantly. "Oh, alright, you can get out first." The prince said.

Ithildor hastily undid the leather strap that fastened Gilandor to his perch at night. As soon as he was freed, the bird hopped onto the elf's arm, and Ithildor brought him to the window.

"Alright, go out there and when I'm out I'll call for you." He said quietly to the bird.

Gilandor didn't waste any time hopping off of the young elf's arm and onto the windowsill. He tested the air for a moment with his wings, and then pushed off with his powerful talons. Ithildor watched as his pet soared into the nearby trees.

"If only escape was that easy for me." He muttered to himself, while he looked around the room for something to use as rope. His bedroom was on the third story of the palace, and he knew if he jumped he could risk breaking a bone. He only needed enough rope to lower himself down to the second story before he knew he could leap down safely. Ithildor's searching eyes rested on the curtains in front of him, billowing in the breeze.

The elf looked up at the curtains. His window was a very tall one, and so it was the same with the curtains in his room. They would do perfectly.

Ithildor used his sword to cut the curtains from their rods, and then fastened one end to a post at the head of his bed. Since his bed was right next to the window, he'd have plenty of fabric to use. Ithildor went to his bed and grasped the sack full of supplies. He leaned far out the window and let the sack drop. It landed softly in the bushes below.

_Now it is my turn. _Ithildor decided, and he returned to the bed, and to his weapons. The bow and the quiver he slung back over his shoulder, and the sword he comfortably attached to his belt. Now he was ready.

Carefully stepping out of the window, and gripping the fabric of the curtain tight, Ithildor prepared for his descend. He didn't know why, but suddenly the height made him dizzy, and instead of lowering himself down the length of the fabric with ease, he simply fell backward.

"Whoa!" He cried, but the curtains held fast, and his grip didn't fail him. He hung from his window, swaying slowly in the window. Ithidor stayed still for a moment, hoping nobody heard his cry.

The youth lowered himself down further with only a little difficulty. He was just about to the bottom when he heard a terrible sound.

Ithildor looked up just as the fabric that held him let out another groan. It began to rip.

"Oh…no—Whoa!." Ithildor barely had time to utter three words before the fabric tore in half under his weight, throwing him to the ground. Ithildor landed with a soft thud in the bushes next to his pack.

"Thank…the…Valar." He panted, trying to gain control over his fast-beating heart. The adrenaline rushed through his veins and into his head, clouding his already confused thoughts.

Ithildor stood up and checked his weapons. None of them had broken in the fall. He bent over and grasped his sack of clothing, slinging it over his shoulders as well. He looked up to the trees.

"Pst!" He whispered harshly. "Gilandor! Come!"

It was not long before Ithildor saw a dark shape floating towards him through the trees. The hawk landed on the elf's other shoulder with a squawk.

"Shh!" Ithildor warned. "We have to go to the stables now to fetch my horse, so be silent!"

Hurriedly Ithildor made his way in the dark, around the front end of the palace towards the stables. He was surprised when nothing jumped out of the woods to eat him.

_Just as I thought…_he said to himself smugly. _All Ada's worrying was for nothing._

Ithildor got a surprise when he reached the stables, however. Two royal guards stood at the door, their weapons at ready.

_Damn. _Ithildor cursed. _I should have known they would have set guards on the horses in case wargs came out to eat them._

Ithildor looked down at the leaf-covered ground. What was he to do now. He was brave, yes, but he was no fool. He knew he couldn't possibly make it through the forest without a horse. Wargs or spiders would pick him off as soon as he left the city boundaries. He needed a horse so he could travel swift and steady.

Carefully, so the guards wouldn't hear it, Ithildor set down his sack. He took Gilandor onto his arm and set him quietly onto a low branch of a nearby tree, putting a finger to his lips so that the bird would remember to keep silent. Then he crept around to the other side of the stable, using the trees and bushes for cover.

There was a large maple tree growing on the far side of the stable, and one of its longest branches hung out just a few feet above the roof. Ithildor knew this because he'd seen other young elves climb it and then enter the stable through a small window at the top. The more mischievous elflings liked to play pranks by stealing horses in this way.

Ithidor would do just that. He made his way to the tree and soon found himself on top of the roof. He looked down and observed the two guards at the doorway. They looked very bored. They would probably use any occurrence as an excuse to leave and inspect something. Ithildor got an idea.

The youth went back down the to the ground, and gather up a few large stones, careful to be silent. He then climbed the tree and stood atop the stable roof again. Ithildor cocked back his arm, a large rock grasped between his fingers. With a silent prayer of hope, he hurled it into a thick patch of trees a great distance away from where Gilandor and his pack were hidden. He heard the stone's noisy landing loud and clear—as did the guards. Their head whipped around in that direction, but they didn't move.

Ithildor smiled. It was all right, he had more stones. Again he threw one into the trees. It too landed with a suspicious thump. Ithildor paused and then listened and watched for any movement from the guards.

"You heard that, didn't you?" One asked the other.

"Yes. Are you going to see what it was?" The second one answered.

Ithildor threw another stone. He watched with glee as the guards bristled at the sound.

"It's most likely one of them accursed wargs." The first guard said. "Only one of those vile creatures could be so noisy. I'm going to go."

"I will accompany you." Said the other. "Can't be too careful."

Ithildor crouched down low on the roof as the guards moved away. When they disappeared among the trees he made his move and slipped through the small window.

Inside the stable, he looked around for his horse, Athenos. He finally found him, standing peacefully in a stall on the left.

"Hey, boy!" He greeted, rubbing the horse's nose with his hand. "Want to go for a run?"

Athenos grunted and stamped his hoofs. "Great!" Ithildor whispered. He opened the stall door and led the horse out towards the door, only stopping briefly to fit Athenos into a bridle and saddle.

Ithildor paused at the door, putting his ear up to it. His keen sense of hearing told him all he needed to know—he could hear the heavy footfalls of the guards outside. Their steps were weighted down with armor and plenty of weapons, and they were moving about quite loudly. He, on the other hand, was lighter and being much more careful where he stepped. The guards would not hear him. As for Athenos, his hoofs muffled any sound he made as he walked. Ithildor opened the door and lead Athenos out into the night. He closed the door gently behind them.

_I am an absolute genius! _Ithildor thought triumphantly as he and Athenos reached the group of trees where Gilandor was waiting for them. Ithildor grabbed his sack and fastened it to the saddle on Athenos's back. He then hopped on, grasped the reins, and turned to the hawk.

"Follow us closely, Gilandor. We'll be traveling quickly." He whispered to the bird. The creature obviously understood it's master, for as soon as Ithildor began to move Athenos away, he hopped around on his perch and took off ahead of them.

The trio moved silently through the trees, past the large closed gates of the palace and into the woods. As soon as they reached the end of the city boundaries Ithildor hastened Athenos into a gallop.

_This is it! _He thought excitedly. _This will surely be a great adventure, and there is nothing in my path to stop me!_

Ithildor laughed aloud and rejoiced in his freedom by leaning his head back and enjoying the cool wind run fingers through his long hair. He occasionally caught glances of Gilandor through the trees, a dark silhouette against a star-frosted sky. The elf prince laughed again, and rode further into the night, and closer to a world waiting to be discovered.

(((((((((((((o Personal thing o))))))))))))))))

Well. Ok. Sorry for another late update, my dear friends. I'm having a serious case of writers block, but it thankfully went away today, and I wrote just about all of this chapter. I think it's pretty good. It seems a little bit Walt Disney—with our young hero (ahem—Ithildor) talking to his animal friends and looking forward to great adventures and all. But I hope you liked it! Thank you so much to all of you who reviewed! I love you all!


	4. Chapter 4: Alone in the Night

Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable.

((((((((((((((o Chapter 4 o)))))))))))))))))))

_December 1st, 3018_

_ Well, I've been a free elf for a brief while now. Athenos bore me safely and soundly to the southern edge of Mirkwood, and Gilandor was close behind. Valar bless them, for they are my only friends now. _

_ I must admit that I'm a little uneasy. In my haste I forgot a map and now I have no idea where I could go. But I must keep moving. By now Grandfather must have noticed my leaving and is setting up search parties everywhere. But they won't reach this area until a few days have past, and by then I will be long gone. _

_ I have been living well, though the life of a lone elf in the wilderness is considerably different from my former occupation. Gilandor and I go hunting, and he has brought back enough food to feed us both, with plenty left over. I haven't seen a single evil thing. Not a warg nor a giant spider nor an orc. _

_ I wonder if any word has reached Ada yet. Valar only knows if he has already set out upon this quest to destroy The Ring. I hope he hasn't received any message. I don't want him to worry about me. _

_ Ithildor_

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Ithildor walked gingerly among the crisp, green grasses and breathed in the wonderful smell of trees. He was enjoying himself.

Athenos was grazing nearby, pressing his hooves into the dirt. Ithildor approached the horse and stroked it's mane. He took another deep breath. What wonderful, glorious air! He could finally breath out here, without the thick palace walls surrounding him, choking him. Out here everything looked and tasted and smelled of freedom, and the young elf couldn't get enough of it.

The Prince had set up a small camp in an isolated grove of trees half a mile away from the edge of Mirkwood forest. He didn't need to ask himself why he preferred the trees to the grassland surrounding it—he saw the trees as a sort of comfort. The grassland around him both excited and frightened him. He'd never seen lands and skies so vast in his entire life.

Athenos shifted and winnied, nearly stepping on Ithildor's foot.

"Careful, boy!" He scolded softly, stepping away and back towards his makeshift camp.

Ithildor frowned and looked at his spared foot. The thought had occurred to him that if he was injured in any way while he was out here, he would have to make a choice: Try and tend the wound himself or go back home. Ithildor had taken classes in medicine and herbs from the palace's healer, but he only knew how to identify and prepare certain plants for a limited amount of ailments. If anything more serious happened to him, he would have no one to help, and no one to turn to.

Ithildor shook his head. What was he thinking? Surely he would remain healthy and uninjured. He'd always been careful, and nothing out here looked particularly threatening.

Suddenly Athenos whinnied and stomped his hoof loudly against the ground. Ithildor looked up and observed the horse, wondering what was wrong. Athenos began to scamper around nervously, and his ears folded back aggressively. He whinnied again.

Ithildor rushed to the camp and fetched the horses's bridle. Athenos was obviously sensing something he was not. Could it be his Grandfather's searching party? Could they have gotten here so soon? The young elf heard a screech from above and looked up to see Gilandor retreating into the higher branches of the trees above their camp.

"What is it?" He wondered aloud as he turned back into the field. Athenos was still pacing, more nervous than ever.

Ithildor's heart leapt into his throat. The animals would not be acting so strangely if it was simply a troop of elves approaching. This had to be a predator.

The thought occurred to him all too late. Ithildor looked up and saw a large brown shape creeping slowly through the longer grass.

"Warg," He whispered, and as if on cue the large animal burst out of grass, it's huge mouth gaping and white teeth gleaming. It headed straight for Athenos.

Ithildor stood at the edge of his encampment, terrified, frozen in place. He'd never seen a warg before. His father's and grandfather's descriptions of this monster did not do it justice. It was terrible. It was deadly and…

Ithildor was shook out of his thoughts when he heard a terrifying roar rip out of the creature's throat. He could have sworn he felt his very heart stop with the sound. The young elf looked again and saw Athenos galloping at full speed in the opposite direction—and breathed a sigh of relief. The warg followed a short distance, but then fell back, panting. Athenos was safe.

_But I'm not…_Ithildor realized. The beast turned and locked it's beady, black eyes on the prince. It charged and it's roar filled the clearing.

Ithildor did nothing. What could he do? Without a horse to use as a mount, and alone for that matter, he had no chance against the beast. The thought shot through him as if an arrow of realization had pierced his flesh.

Suddenly Ithildor saw the warg stumble. The huge animal wailed a cry of pain and then suddenly toppled over, crushing the dirt and plants beneath it. Only then did Ithildor notice the spear stuck deeply in it's side.

His fear growing, and his heart beating frantically, Ithildor didn't even think to move. The warg was not dead, but where did the spear come from? He got his answer in a the form of loud, triumphant voices shouting over the field, heading towards him. They were not elven, for they spoke in a tongue Ithildor didn't immediately recognize.

A group of six or seven men entered the clearing, rushing towards the fallen creature. Ithildor took one look at them and knew they were hunters. Various knives and daggers hung from large leather belts, and their boots were stained with mud and filth. Their hair was dark, and Ithildor paused to regard it for a moment, as none of the elves he knew possessed such a feature. The men approached further, and Ithildor's curiosity slowly melted into bafflement, and then fear.

_What are men doing so close to Mirkwood? What are they doing here?_ He thought. Then he realized: _What if they see me?_

The young elf quickly knelt and gathered his few belongings. Then with a powerful spring of his legs, he leapt into the trees above him, just as the men reached the dying warg.

Gilandor screeched beside him, and Ithildor glared at the bird. But the men on the ground were too preoccupied to notice. As Ithildor watched, they circled the beast, none of them daring to step in close and deliver the killing blow or remove the spear. The warg itself groaned pitifully, and Ithildor almost felt sorry for the creature that had desired to kill him.

Finally, one of the men braved being bitten in the leg and stepped inside the circle toward the warg. He pulled a huge, broad-bladed sword from his belt and raised it ceremoniously above the warg's fur-covered neck. The creature did not groan nor wail, but stayed silent, as if it knew it's death was coming and it was a comfort.

Ithildor watched with wide eyes as the sword plunged into the flesh of the warg. He heard the juicy crunch of the muscle and sinew being ripped apart inside, and the blood vessels broken. The warg's titanic jaws opened impossibly wide as if it would scream, but instead of sound, a torrent of bright, hot blood poured out of it's mouth.

Ithildor gaped in awe. He'd never seen so much blood before. He'd never seen a killing so brutal—but that was not which fascinated him. It was the fact that he'd never seen a human before.

_They were able to bring the beast down when I could not…_Ithildor thought in shame. _Men…humans who were supposedly weaker than elves. And yet they so easily bring down a creature like a warg. _

Ithildor looked down thirteen feet to the ground, which now seemed so much farther away. _Is this true? Is the days of elves truly fading and giving way to the days of men?_

Ithildor pondered as long as the men were on the ground beneath him. They stayed much longer than he thought they would. They did not feel content with dragging their kill back to whatever camp they had set up, so Ithildor watched with growing disgust as they gutted and quartered the carcass right there and then. It was nearly nightfall when they had gone, and Ithildor felt secure enough to come down from his perch.

He was worried about Athenos. Where could his horse have gone to? Ithildor knew that Athenos would come if he called, but he was still afraid that the men might hear him and come to investigate.

Ithildor approached the place where the men had cut up the warg. The ground was stained black with blood, and the pile of organs and entrails sat, still steaming, in the light of the moon. Ithildor covered his nose and retreated back to his little knot of trees. The smell was revolting to his elven senses.

Gilandor fluttered down onto his shoulder as he approached. Ithildor ignored the bird's talons digging into his shoulders as he bent down to once again pick up his sack of belongings. He'd have to continue moving on, and look for Athenos on the way. If he didn't, there was still a chance that his Grandfather's soldiers could find him. Besides, he would not be content to stay here…not after what he'd just witnessed.

The young elf set off in the dark. He headed southwest, in the direction that Athenos had traveled. He kept a sharp eye for anything moving, whether it be animal or elf or human. He didn't want to be interrupted by any of those things.

Halfway through the night he came across a set of hoof prints in the mud next to a stream. Ithildor observed them and determined that they could be the prints of Athenos. But on the other side of the stream grew very thick, very tall grass, which provided no path or hoof prints. He could not find anything.

Ithildor made camp close to the stream that night, in case Athenos would return. But the young elven prince had a terrible feeling that his horse was gone for good. He'd not studied very hard in the art of tracking. His father has always scolded him for that.

"Why should I learn a skill you will obviously never let me put to use?" Ithildor had often retorted.

"Because I am your father, and I know better than anyone that seemingly useless skills will become of the utmost importance in a moments notice, Ithildor." His father had always said.

Ithildor sighed and laid out flat on the ground. He stared up at the stars, and at the moon, who caressed him with a gentle kiss of white light. The long grass at the other side of the stream was swaying like dancers in the breeze, whispering. They whispered with eerie voices and songs that were mere ghosts of themselves.

Ithildor drew in a shaky breath. He wouldn't get any sleep tonight. Not with that sound in his ears.

(((((((((((((((((o Personal Thing o)))))))))))))))))))

Sorry, sorry, sorry! It's really short, but I've been really lazy, and really involved with…everything. Can't do anything anymore. Hate it. But at least I got one more chapter done. Please review, even though you're probably steaming mad at me for taking so long! Reviews always, always, always motivate me to write more! Thanks guys, and I love you, and I'm sorry for taking so damn long again and I promise that I'll try to clean up my act in the future!

Roseblade


	5. Chapter 5: Decisions

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

((((((((((((((o Chapter 5 o)))))))))))))))))

_December 8th, 3018_

_ It seems that the Valar have turned the winds—and everything else, for that matter—against me. Athenos remains lost, and I grow weary without him. At least Gilandor is still by my side, or else I would have starved to death days ago. _

_ I've witnessed the company of men twice since I first saw them kill the warg. They have horses. Strong, large, and well-bred horses unlike the elven-steeds we have at home. The men themselves are strange as well. They are tall and gruff, with long yellow hair and rough faces. I've never seen the likes of any creature like them. I've been very careful to stay out of their sight, for they do not seem to be very civilized. They argue at night—I can hear them very clearly—and drink thick ale from tall glasses until they fall right over. It is really quite the spectacle. _

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Ithildor crouched amongst the tall grass beyond the light of the fire—the Rohan man's fire, as he had learned they were called. It had become his nightly ritual to spy on the strange beings from afar—they roused his interest greatly, even though he was afraid of them.

He had heard of the land of Rohan from his teachers. From what they said, it was a rough, rock-scarred country filled with horses and their masters. The Rohirrim had a great hall built somewhere in this barren land, but Ithildor was unsure of it's whereabouts, nor was he keen to visit it. For now he was content with eavesdropping on the small collection of riders in front of them.

"This warg's meat is foul." One of them complained. "Why did we kill that animal?"

"Better to eat foul meat than to starve." Replied another.

A third man added: "Wargs are evil, and it is in our best interest to kill them, even if we do not mean to keep the meat afterward. Did you not hear what's happened in the towns to the north?"

"Yes, I have." The first one answered quickly. "Wargs and orcs attacking and murdering townsfolk everywhere."

Ithildor blinked and listened harder. This had been the first he'd heard the men gossip about orcs as well as wargs. He moved closer.

"What has the King done about all this?" Another piped in.

The Third man threw down his food and shook his head. "There are some that say that Theoden is under an evil spell. The Golden Hall has fallen into ruin, and the skies above Edoras have darkened."

Ithildor nodded to himself and backed away into the grass once more. He'd heard all he'd wanted for tonight.

_Orcs…_he thought excitedly. _Orcs attacking towns in northern Rohan! So it is true. Sauron's armies are spreading everywhere._

The elven prince moved further away from the Rohirrim, until he could no longer be seen by the light of their large fire. He stood in the darkness and watched and listened for a while longer, but the men had changed their topic of choice once again, and he was no longer interested. He took the short walk back to his hidden camp, where Gilandor greeted him with a screech.

"Hello, mellon nin." He replied, collapsing on the ground. The bird fluttered down to him and sat on his chest. Ithildor laughed. "Gilandor, stop playing."

The movement of the young prince's laughter jostled the hawk, and he was more than happy to hop off onto the ground. Ithildor turned on his side to face him.

"I have to get some sleep now." He said, more to himself than to his pet. "So be silent."

Gilandor ruffled his feathers and sprung up into a branch of the nearest tree. As Ithildor has asked, he made no other sound.

Ithildor lay down, his head full of what the Rohan men had said. _Wargs and orc attacking the northern towns. Interesting._

As he searched for a peaceful place in his mind to slumber, Ithildor also pondered what an adventure it would be to be a warrior in times like these—to be called to aid the people when Sauron's armies attacked, and being victorious.

Ithildor frowned. Then again, he wasn't a warrior. And even so, his father was always pressing the fact that a warrior's life was not as glamorous as it was often assumed to be.

_But can I believe that? _Ithildor thought. _Father has fought many battles. He's never been greatly injured. How would he know then? What if he's just saying that to discourage me?_

Ithildor groaned and flopped over to face the other side. He wasn't about to let what his father said stop him. That was, after all, the very reason he'd left Mirkwood in the first place.

_I have to stop thinking like I'm still under someone's authority. _He urged. _I am my own ruler now. I make the decisions. I'm not going to waste my life playing by Father's rules._

Ithildor's thoughts finally fell silent. Now he felt content. Now he decided to head north, to see what the Rohirrim had been talking about. If he happened to come across some orcs…then he'd fight them. Orcs were stupid and less threatening than wargs, anyway.

Slowly Ithildor fell into sleep. The whistle of the wind formed an ancient lullaby that consumed him. The night closed in, and the stars flickered out, devoured by the void of darkness.

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Ithildor dreamt. It was a strange thing because he rarely had dreams, and certainly not ones a vivid as this.

He was standing inside the Palace courtyard, back home in Mirkwood. Beside him was his mother's grave. And kneeling in the dirt facing the gravestone, was Legolas Greenleaf, his Father.

Ithildor barely recognized him. He wasn't dressed in his usual attire. What he was wearing looked like it hadn't been washed in months. His father, a Prince of Mirkwood, was dressed as a lowly peasant. A ratty pair of leggings covered his legs, and he had no boots. On top there was nothing more than a torn, sleeveless tunic.

Ithildor stepped back, alarmed. Through the holes in the abused fabric he could see scars. Many, many long, dark gashes on his father's skin.

"Ada?" Ithildor asked quietly, but Legolas didn't seem to hear him. Ithildor looked again, and noticed something more.

His father sat with his arms held weakly outstretched towards the gravestone. He was weeping, his tears staining the dirt below him. Ithildor looked at the grave of his mother and felt like weeping himself.

There was no name carved into the stone. It was his mother's grave, yet her name was absent. Ithildor was horrified. What had happened? Who had defaced his mother's memorial? A great anger boiled up inside him, but then suddenly his father moved.

The elder prince reached to his side and grasped a large stone that sat in the soil not far away. He reached toward the gravestone once again, as Ithildor watched with growing fascination.

Prince Legolas rested a pointed tip of the stone on the surface of the untouched marble. Then the muscles in his strong arm tightened and Ithildor saw a long, white scar appear on the stone.

"Ada!" Ithildor shouted again, but once more his Father ignored him. He continued to mark the stone with his hand. It didn't take Ithildor long to realize that he was writing something—but it was not his mother's name.

It started with an 'E'.

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Sorry again for the long update. I've slowly began to realize I'm losing interest in this story. But I've managed to crawl on the computer and write another chapter. I hope to carry on and finish, hopefully before I go to college. Please keep reviews coming. It really helps. Thank you!


	6. Chapter 6: Fallen

Disclaimer: Guess what? I still own nothing!

(((((((((((((o Chapter 6 o))))))))))))))

_December 29th, 3018_

_Winter has come to this land, and what a sight it is! There are no trees here, so when the snow falls, you look out to the horizon and all you see is white oblivion. It is really quite breathtaking, but I'm having regrets also. As warm as my cloak and hood can be, without any trees to take shelter under, it is still very cold here. Not to mention every morning I wake up with a fresh blanket of snow on top of me. I don't believe Gilandor is enjoying the weather either. He's bringing back less food than usual, and it's more difficult to start a fire with all the moisture in the air. _

_I'm not sure how far I've gone north. Three weeks I've been trekking, and I haven't seen a single house! Not a town nor a man in sight. Where have they all gone? Perhaps I really am lost. I should have known better than to leave home without a map to guide me. But I'd be damned if I turned back now. _

_Another thing is bothering me. The dream I had the night before I started to head this way—was very disturbing. The part that frightens me the most was my mother's defaced gravestone. And Father's scars. He looked like he'd been beaten. Yet I haven't the slightest idea what it all means. Perhaps I'll find out soon._

_ Ithildor_

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"SCREEE!"

Ithildor groaned, but didn't move.

"SCREEEEE!"

The young prince moaned again and turned over. "What now, Gilandor?" He asked grumpily. He felt the weight of another layer of snow on top of him and sat up, shaking it off.

"SCREEE!" Gilandor screamed again.

Ithildor glanced at the bird in annoyance. "Would you please stop it?" He asked.

The bird hopped about excitedly on it's perch and cocked his head. Ithildor had attached his leash to a branch in a nearby shrub for the night. What a night it had been! There had been a great storm, and the snow came down in blankets. They had had to stop for the entire night because you could hardly see five feet in front of you, even with elven eyes.

"Silly bird." Ithildor scolded. The hawk continued to act usual as the elf wearily stood and went to undo the band from around Gilandor's leg.

"What has gotten into you?" Ithildor continued. "Did you see a rabbit just now or something?"

Ithildor breathed in a whiff of clean, winter air as the now-freed bird hopped onto his should. It was then he discovered what had so excited his pet.

There was the scent of smoke in the air. And lots of it. Ithildor turned immediately and gasped, for the bright sun was shining brilliantly upon the snow covered hills and valleys. The entire land glittered with the radiance of a million diamonds. Ithildor had to shield his eyes from the brightness. Then he saw the source of the smoke.

There was a small dark cluster on the horizon, consisting of many square shapes. Ithildor could barely make them out as buildings, they were so far away. The fire and smoke that was rising from them, however, was easier to spot. Thick plumes of black cloud rose over nearly half the settlement.

_Is it…is it an orc attack? _Ithildor thought in disbelief. He looked again, and noticed something even more stirring rising up from behind the town. Trees.

Ithildor smiled. He'd had enough of barren, white plains and hills. He would attend the battle and see if he could hew a few orc heads. But battle or not, he was heading towards those trees. He quickly raced about his camp to collect his belongings and place them in his sack. Once he was finished, he called to his pet.

"Come on, Gilandor!" He yelled. "Something exciting at last! No wonder you wanted to wake me!"

It did not take the young elf very long to move closer to the burning town, despite the many inches of snow on the ground. He, like any elf, could race on top of it. His feet barely made impressions in the power as he ran along, with Gilandor flying above and ahead of him. He stopped and crouched behind a snowdrift just beyond the town's borders, and his eyes saw what he'd hoped to see.

A battalion of orcs were laying siege on the town. They raced through the alleys and the cobblestone streets, weapons and torches in hand, setting buildings aflame and terrorizing the townsfolk. Ithildor looked again and saw at the other end of the town there was a large group of men and boys preparing to defend their homes. In fact, the group was so large that it outnumbered the orc battalion. Ithildor did a quick head count, and nodded. Yes, the men greatly outnumbered the orcs. They would not lose this battle against the evil race.

Still…that didn't mean he couldn't have to help.

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"Lady Aderyn! Milady, come away from the window!"

Aderyn turned her head and glanced at the frantic servant in her doorway. She didn't move. "Have all the gates been closed?"

The servant was unprepared for the question, and she put her hand up to her face. "I—I don't know, Milady. But you must—."

"See that it is done then!" Lady Aderyn ordered. "And when it is done, see that all the able men in the house organize a counter attack."

The servant was at a loss for words. Finally she stuttered out: "A counter attack?"

Aderyn turned back to the window and looked to the south. The smoke was rising from the distant part of town, and the flames were drawing closer. So was the enemy. Aderyn frowned deeply.

"My ancestors protected this place for hundreds of years." She said quietly. "I will not be the one to see it fall."

Aderyn gazed back to the doorway. Her servant hadn't budged. "Now go." She said. "And don't worry about me."

Another long pause. At last the servant bowed. "Yes, Milady. I will do as you wish."

Aderyn nodded in satisfaction but didn't speak. Her eyes found their way back to the window, and she looked out upon her town. She saw the fire burning closer and heard the battle-cries and clanking armor coming her way. She gasped in alarm as a dozen black figures raced around the corner, howling and shouting in an evil language. Orcs.

Aderyn watched as the orcs circled around the front gates to the mansion, squabbling and shouting. They each raced at the gates and tried to force them to open, but thankfully this particular gate had already been locked and held fast. With dread growing inside her, Aderyn watched as the orcs, one by one, began to scale the tall fence around the castle. Her fear grew, and so did her anger. As the vile creatures drew closer, she could see the bright glint of blood reflect red off their axes and daggers. The blood of her townspeople. The people she was responsible for were dying, and all because she was unable to protect them.

Suddenly, another figure appeared. This one was clad not black, but in green and gray, and moved swiftly. Aderyn watched in disbelief as a young man with long blonde hair plunged into the heart of the orc group, taking them completely by surprise. She saw the gleam of the edge of a sword, and suddenly the orcs began to fall. Their dark blood began to stain the snow-covered ground, and Aderyn blinked her eyes in disbelief.

_What is he doing? _She thought. _He must be mad, to take on a dozen orcs like that!_

Despite her doubts, the young man continued to fight, and the orcs continued to fall. Soon only two of the largest orcs were left, and they young man and his opponents circled each other slowly. Aderyn leaned further out the window to get a better look at the brave soul.

_Strange, _she thought as she observed him. _He's not dressed like anything else I've ever seen…_

Aderyn watched in shock as one of the orcs charged the boy. She saw a flash of his blade, and suddenly one of the orc's arms was severed from its body. A torrent of hot blood poured out of the enormous wound. It splashed off the snow onto the strange young man's boots. He jumped back, seemingly horrified by what he'd done.

But Aderyn was once again stunned. She'd never seen any creature move so quickly.

_He cannot be human…_she told herself. _No man can move that quickly. Could he be a…_

Suddenly, the injured orc lunged again. It didn't seem to notice that it no longer had two arms. It pulled a dagger from it's belt with it remaining hand and slashed wildly at the strange boy, who dodged each blow. Then, he raised his sword above his head to strike the final blow and kill the monster.

Aderyn saw what the boy managed to overlook. His second opponent, the orc that had stood and saw his comrade get chopped up, suddenly howled a war cry and raced to join the fray.

Aderyn's breath caught in her throat. Just as she thought that the young man was about to get skewered, she saw another flash of metal and heard the crunch of severed bone. When she looked again, her heart cried in triumph.

Somehow, the young man had managed to slice open the throat of the first orc—and then spin around fast enough to behead the second. Both dead bodies fell to the ground with a thud. And Aderyn finally saw the jagged edge of the orc-sword piercing the young man's side. She watched in horror as he shakily reached for the hilt and managed to yank the sword out of his flesh. Unable to stand any longer, he dropped his sword limply to his side and then fell next to the bodies of the orcs he'd just slain.

Aderyn gasped and backed away from the window as quickly as she could. "Rhianna! Rhianna!" She called the name of one of her servants.

After a few moments she heard the sound of Rhianna racing down the hall to the room. Aderyn didn't wait for her to enter the room before she shouted out more orders.

"There is a young man outside of the front gate!" She shouted. "He's injured. Send someone to fetch him immediately!"

The servant peeked her head in and out the door. Upon hearing the orders given to her, she quickly rushed back down the hall as quickly as she had come.

Aderyn resisted her fear and shakily turned her head back towards the window. She saw the fleck of green and gray among a bloody mess of black and steel. The boy was still.

Aderyn had never been so afraid. Not since her parents died.

_But that was years ago…_She thought, trying to repress the memories of her past. She glanced back upon the unmoving body of the brave young man.

_The Gods help him…_she prayed silently.

_(((((((((((o _Personal Thingy _o))))))))))))))_

Well, the ending was crappy so I'm sorry for that. But at least I managed another chapter! As for me, well…I recently visited my college for the third time and finally found out where the underground computer lab is—open twenty-four hours! Yay! So hopefully after I get over the shock of going to college for the first time, I'll continue to update! For now, I'll try to update as fast as I can. Thanks for all your patience! I love you guys so much!


	7. Chapter 7: Elf in Waiting

Disclaimer: I own nothing, as usual. Shutterbugs.

Sorry, none of Ithildor's journal entries today. Considering he's unconscious, that would be stupid! Hehe. Also I'm sticking my Reviewer Replies up here so you guys don't miss 'em. **Scroll down for the story!**

**REVIEWER REPLIES:**

PS: These are for all my reviews from all chapters!

**frodofreak88: **Thanks for forgiving me for killing Eressa. I will stick to my case—it had to happen! Otherwise there would be no angst later! Oh, and yes, Ithildor will get into more trouble. Not the wargs-and-spiders-attacking-trouble, but the angsty kind. Whee! And I promise to keep updating! Thank you for reviewing so often! Luvs ya!

**The Noble Platypus: **I'm glad you like it! I hope you continue to like it, and continue to review like you always do! You are soo great! And you can give Ithildor all the hugs you want! chucks Ithildor over to you Just don't let the Goddess of Mary Sues get to him! I hope you like Aderyn. She's probably my most favorite character I ever created. Unfortunately, she might not get to play nurse. In fact, it might be the exact opposite! Heheh!

BTW—I am scared poop-less about going to college and leaving all my friends and my comfort zone and all—so thanks for reassuring me that I'll love it. I certainly hope I will!

Bye now, thanks soo much, as always!

**darkangelgep: **I am very very glad to hear that you like this story. It is just so much more different from my others—I was worried everybody would hate it. But you've reassured me! And yes, new characters! And SURPRISE! Old characters will come back to haunt and lurk and fork everything up for Ithildor! Yayness! Thanks a bunch!

**Booklover Fanatic: **No no no! I don't want to go to college with this hanging over me, or sitting on me, or under me or anything! I'm trying to get it done as fast as I can, but I'm very…lazy sometimes, and busy too. But I promise even if I go to college I will continue writing this story till it is done, Done, DONE! And then write another one-shot spin-off just for the hell of it! By the way, have fun at college, I hope you're not as scared as I am!

**XxDarkgoddessxX: **HELLO! Thank God you reviewed, I thought you died or something! Don't scare me like that, girl! Thanks for the positive comments—I can always count on you for them! You probably are one of the most faithful reviewers I have—has it been two years I've been working on this series? Wow. Thank you for all your support! Unfortunately I don't think I will be able to bring Eressa back into the story. She is dead, after all. But another old character WILL come back. And they are gonna cause a lot of angst for Ithildor. So keep reading! Thanks so much! Bye!

**The Emotional 13 Year Old: **I have to work hard. Otherwise I'm just never going to get anything done. Besides, even if you don't check up on my stories 'cause you're reading others, when you do come back, there's gonna be lots of new chapters waiting for you! Thanks for continuing to review! Please continue! Bye!

**shadowsorceress: **I'm SOOO glad to hear that you like Ithildor. I thought people would be bored with him, 'cause, you know, he's not Legolas. Thanks god you like him! Oh, yay! I'll try not to keep you waiting. Thanks a bunch!

**Mahogany Greenleaf: **Thank you very much! I'm glad you like it. And I will update as soon as I can!

**Deana: **You bet Ithy took off. Hehe, this is so great. Only the 7th chapter and I already have people calling my main character pet names! Thanks!

**LegyLuva: **Thanks for you compliments on the little father/son scene between Leggy and Ithildor. I really wanted to do one of those and I liked it, so I'm glad you enjoyed it too! Yeah, I get down on myself for not updating fast enough. I really just want to make you guys happy. To not keep you waiting and wondering, you know? But I need a life too, I suppose. Thanks for you reassuring words! Please review while you can, I will look forward to them! Thank you again and again and again…

**aknightofni: **Wow…thanks for you great compliments…even if I sometimes don't agree with all of them…hehe. But thank you so much. I'm glad you enjoyed the Leggy/Ithildor scene. I had a pleasant time writing that one. I'm flattered to hear that you think my story is well written and at the same time entertaining. That's what I was aiming for! Thank you very much, I greatly appreciate it.

**tanja: **You know what? It is about time. I got really, really lazy for a while. Ok, more than a while. A LOOONG time. But now I'm back, and I'm gonna try hard to finish this story ASAP. Thanks for you encouraging thoughts. I'm sorry for seriously slacking off on some of my other stories thought—especially The Well of Souls. That one is like the thorn in my side. I really want to finish it, but I just can't seem to find the time to. But I have a whole week home alone with no parents to kick me off the computer now, so maybe I'll be able to write something! Thanks so much!

**Rose Angel: **Well….actually, Tolkien's character _is_ Legolas Greenleaf. He just doesn't use his full name in the book all the time. And if you still don't believe me, it's printed clearly twice in the Two Towers—once when Lady Galadriel sends messages to the Three Hunters, and once more when Legolas wants to go watch the ents but Gandalf tells him not to. Check it out. But thanks for reviewing and looking at my profile! Bye!

**Nirobie: **Come on! You thought I would just stop at two stories? Of course there's a third! And after I'm done with this one (eventually), a fourth! But that one will be just a one shot, nothing monumental. Thanks for continuing to review! I'm glad you like that it's about Ithildor! I was worried people wouldn't like him. Thanks ever so much for your encouraging words! Luvs ya!

**MidnightStar82: **Thanks! And yes, another one! I'll never stop! AHAHAH! Well…maybe eventually I'll have to stop, but it sure is not gonna be soon! Um…this might just be because it's past midnight right now, but I didn't really understand the rest of your review. What about history and doing things the way they really would have been done? You'll have to repeat that. I didn't get it. My blonde-ness is kicking in. And I will update as soon as I can! Thanks again, and forever! Bye now!

**Kitsune Kida: **Thanks! I'm glad you thought I got off to a good start. Yeah, poor Leggy. I never cease to torture him! Hehe. Unfortunately, Legolas isn't going to be around to tell Ithildor the truth. But that doesn't mean that he won't find out on his own…oooh, the suspense! Thanks again!

((((((((((((((o Chapter 7 o)))))))))))))))

Ithildor was floating. No…no, he was flying. That was it. Flying. The air around him was tinged a rosy pink color. Normally Ithildor wouldn't have liked it, but somehow it didn't bother him. Not just yet.

The young prince outstretched his arms and continued to sail through the beautiful nihility. He barely even noticed the slight throb pulsing from his left side. It was peaceful here.

But then the pink hue began to darken. Ithildor could feel the air give way from under him. He opened his mouth to scream as he began to plummet downward, but nothing but a spurt of blood came out. He watched in horror as it stained the air a deadly red, then black.

Out of the darkness, he thought he heard a voice.

"…quickly, I think he's coming to…"

_Who's coming? _The prince thought groggily. He was surprised now to feel not air under him, but a soft, large mattress. Slowly and deliberately he opened his eyes.

Ithildor found himself staring at a high ceiling. And a girl.

"Are you awake?" She asked, dumbfounded by the sight of his eyes. She had not noticed before, of course. They had been closed. But now that he was looking at her she could see that they we the most chilling green she'd ever seen.

Ithildor was somewhat annoyed by the unnecessary question. "Of course I am you—AH!"

In his surprise and haste he had forgotten his wound. He tried to sit up, and suddenly the air was red again. He fell weakly back into the pillows and bed covers, clutching his injured side and wincing. After the pain had dulled he turned and discovered the girl staring at him sympathetically.

He hated that look. It was one he'd gotten to often…at least before he ran away…

Another thought occurred to Ithildor. Where was he? Again he glanced at the girl, scowling.

"What is this? Where am I?" He asked. His teeth tightly clenched when another pain tore through his battered body, and his hands stayed plastered to his wound. It hurt. But Ithildor dared not to show it.

"Well?" He continued when he received no reply. He realized he was being quite forward and rude, but out of his arrogance, did not correct his behavior.

The girl blinked, and Ithildor first noticed her eyes. They were large and innocent, and he noted their color—a subtle shade of blue, like a dark pool. She was young, no older that he was.

_Of course, _He corrected himself, _humans age differently from elves._

He continued his observation. Her face was clean and her hair was as well. Ithildor noted her hair with interest. It was very long and unbraided, but it was also dark in color. The elf prince had never seen that sort of hair before. Most elves in Mirkwood had lightly colored blonde locks like him. It momentarily fixated him, but then the girl spoke.

"You are safe, my Lord." She answered quite politely. "You suffered an injury."

"Obviously." Ithildor grumbled, trying in vain to sit up once more. He finally gave up and rested his head against the soft pillows. "Where am I?"

"You are in Southbed, in the country of Rohan, my Lord." Answered the girl, observing him calmly, despite the elf's frustrations.

"Rohan?" Ithildor echoed. He'd read about the country of Rohan. It was full of humans who dressed in furs and rode horses and raised dogs, and that was about all he knew. He turned back to the girl and dragged his eyes over her figure one more time.

She was dressed plainly—a gray, long sleeved dress that laced up the sides. The only thing elegant about her was the belt she was wearing. It was silver and quite eye-catching. She sat next to the bed facing directly towards him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap and…Ithildor frowned in confusion. The chair she was sitting in was most unusual. It was wooden and metal, with a small platform near the bottom for her to rest her feet on…and wheels.

Ithildor was dumbfounded. He looked again. Yes—there were two large, thin wheels attached to the sides of the unusual chair. They were positioned closer to the back of the chair, and towards her feet, there were two legs—like a regular chair.

_That is the strangest contraption I've ever seen. _Ithildor thought secretly. His eyes gazed back up to the girl's face. He suddenly remembered what he'd been involved in.

"The orcs?" He asked.

The girl smiled warmly, and the elf felt instantly comforted. "You defeated them. But I'm afraid you didn't do it fast enough." She gestured gently to his side.

Ithildor looked at himself and nodded slowly. He carefully removed his hand from his side and inspected the damage. He'd been bandaged by whoever treated him here. A small amount of blood had seeped through the white gauze, but he could see that it was dried. Ithildor decided that his wound was a minor injury. He would recover soon—he hoped.

"Might I ask your name, my Lord?" The girl inquired. Ithildor looked up, startled by the question. Should he tell her or not? He didn't know if he could trust humans.

Instinctively he raised his chin. "I should like to speak to whoever you serve under before I reveal any of that information." He said. "Your Lord or Lady."

The girl blinked again, surprised, but then her warm smile crept over her features again. "You are." She whispered.

Ithildor scowled some more. "What? You must be jesting!"

"I can assure you that I am not, my Lord." The girl shook her head. "My name is Aderyn. You can address me as Lady Aderyn if you so choose."

Ithildor gawked at her. This was unbelievable. This girl could not be the Ruler over this house. She looked as if she was still a child! But, Ithildor realized, she acted exactly the opposite. Every action she took, ever word she spoke was very mature. She looked young, but certainly was acting very much like an adult. But Ithildor was still quizzical.

"Lady Aderyn…" He began uncertainly. "Forgive me for being forward, but are you not a little young to be the Lady of the house?"

The question didn't seem to faze her. "I am fifteen." She said proudly. "And I have had ownership of this house and half the town of Southbed since my parents passed away."

Ithildor winced, but not because of his wound. He hoped he hadn't offended the young lady. "I am very sorry." He apologized, dropping his arrogance for once. "I just didn't expect someone as young as you to have that position."

"Might I point out to you, my Lord, that you do not seem to be very old and wise either." She answered wittily.

Ithildor frowned. "I am an elf, and I can bet I am much older than you are."

The girl's blue eyes glittered, but there was no threat in them. "It doesn't matter to me. You are my guest. And you are welcome to stay here as long as it take for your wounds to heal."

"Thank you." Ithildor muttered, his eyes downcast. "And thank you for dressing my wounds as well."

"You are welcome. You did, after all, aid in slaying the enemy." Lady Aderyn replied. "It was the least we could do."

Ithildor looked up and found her eyes staring at him intently again. His brows furrowed, but he tried not to be impolite. "Do you mind not staring?"

"I am sorry." She said automatically. He voice softened. "I…I've never seen an elf before."

Ithildor sighed. "I've never seen a human before."

The two gazed at each other for another moment, and the Lady Aderyn gasped.

"What?" Ithildor demanded, alarmed.

Aderyn smiled apologetically and blushed. Ithildor was taken aback by this. As he watched the girl's cheeks flood pink she laughed. For the first time, her demeanor took a youthful turn.

"I'm terribly sorry. I forgot to ask your name." She said, rather embarrassed.

"Oh," Ithildor smiled slightly. "It's Ithildor." He decided to keep his princely position to himself. For now.

"Welcome to Southbed, Lord Ithildor." Lady Aderyn said as thought she had rehearsed it. "I will allow you to rest if you wish."

Ithildor didn't know what to say. Although she was a bit too mature for her age and a little annoying at times, he was strangely intrigued by her. How did a young girl like her manage a house like this? Why was she so mature when she was obviously still so young? And most of all, why did she insist on sitting in that odd chair?

He got his answer soon after.

"Rhianna!" Lady Aderyn called softly. Her shout surprised Ithildor, and he looked about the room, alert and aware.

Aderyn laughed at his reaction. She had a surprisingly youthful laugh in comparison to the rest of her presence.

"Not to worry, Master Ithildor." She cooed.

Another woman hurried through the doorway to the room and came to stand at Lady Aderyn's side. She stared at the young elf for a moment in amazement, but then her expression was changed into a kind smile. Aderyn smiled in turn, and introduced the woman.

"This is Rhianna, my personal servant." She explained. "She helps me get about the house. Rhianna, this is our guest, Lord Ithildor."

"Good day, my Lord." Rhianna greeted, bowing her head. Ithildor bowed his head as well, but didn't return the words.

Instead Aderyn continued. "You go ahead and rest." She said. "From what I've heard about elves, they heal faster than we humans do."

Ithildor nodded. "That is true." He concurred.

"Of course." Said Aderyn. Ithildor watched as Rhianna moved behind the chair Aderyn was sitting in, extended her hands forward and grasped two…handles?

_Hm. _Ithildor thought sheepishly, ashamed to have not noticed that detail before. _I'm not as aware as I thought I was._

Rhianna held the handles fast, and then tilted the chair back a bit, so that all Lady Aderyn's weight was on the two strange, large wheels on the sides. Then, to Ithildor's amazement, she pushed Aderyn and wheeled her right over to the door. Aderyn glanced back at him for a moment.

"I'll see you at dinner time, then?" She asked, grinning.

Ithildor gave her a small smile in return. "I suppose," He said. "After all, I'm not going anywhere."

Aderyn allowed another youthful giggled to escape her mouth. Then she murmured a short goodbye and she and Rhianna were out the door.

_I understand now! _Ithildor said to himself. _She must be sick, or injured or…something. She can't walk or stand on her own._

Ithildor looked back down to his bed covers. They were quite nice, made of soft fabric embroidered with heart-shaped leaves and flowers. He had to admit that the humans had made him quite comfortable.

Then he frowned. How long would he be forced to stay here? If he lingered in one place too long, he could be tracked down and found by the elvish troops.

_Wait a minute. _He thought. _They don't have anyway of tracking me anymore. I lost Athenos. The snow probably covered up my tracks, and I can always keep Gilandor…_

Ithildor gasped in alarm. _Where IS Gilandor? _

The young prince frantically tried to sit up again, but he was too hasty. He had forgotten his wound, and now it throbbed unmercifully. Ithildor clamped his teeth onto his bottom lip and bit back a whimper. He couldn't look for his beloved pet now. He couldn't even get out of bed.

_I guess the only thing I can do is wait…_

((((((((((((((o Personal thingy o)))))))))))))

Boy I suck at writing. Sorry for the negativity, but I just don't feel I'm doing very good. Sorry if I'm disappointing anybody. But thanks for supporting me, and HEY! Did anybody notice the town's name, Southbed? Did it ring a bell? Just a clue to where Ithildor is exactly. Let the chaos ensue. Thanks everybody. It's like 12:17 in the morning and I want to sleep. Goodnight and thanks again. ZZZzzzz….

Roseblade.


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